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Picturesque 



Russia and Greece. 



BY 



J 



LEO DE COLANGE, LL.D. 



m\i\) otocr C>nc l^unnrcD ^Uujstrationsi 

BY DE LA CHARLERIE, RAMBERT, ALEXANDRE DE BAR, AND OTHERS. 



' r 



BOSTON: 
ESTES AND LAURIAT. 

1886. 



the library i 
of congress 1 

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Copyright, 1SS5, 

BV ESTES AND LaURIAT. 



John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



RUSSIA, 



ST. PETERSBURG, AND ENVIRONS. 




[7] 



proaching an Oriental, rather than a European city. But fair as the sight in some 
respects is, the sea-view of St. Petersburg is, on the whole, a disappointment: it is too 
flat, and presents no imposing " masses " of ai-chitecture to the gulf. The domes are scat- 
tered wide away from each other, and no houses are to be seen uniting them; they are 
like the churches of so many separate villages, rather than the ornaments of one capital. 
You lono- wonder where the great St. Petersburg can have hid itself behind these mud 
islands, these wide straggling wood yards, and these red, barrack-looking structures, that 
lie so desolate on the flats. The metropolis of a great empire should stand boldly out on 
the water; but this one seems to steal away among reeds and bulrushes, sending up 
a few blazing sky-rockets, more like signals of distress than proofs of splendor. 

Patience ! patience ! The shade of Peter the Great will be amply avenged when you 
get in to Ms capital, and see what it is. But remember, it is only when you have 
entered that St. Petersburg fills you with astonishment. Other places make all their 
show without; here it is all within. The city cannot help its position. It would look 
better if there were some heights in or near it; there is not one as high as a can- 
dlestick in the whole region. The islands and shores about the mouth of the Neva 
are perfectly level. They can do wonderful things in Russia; but they have not been 
able to raise mountains where Nature, for miles and miles around, placed only duck- 
ponds and ague-marshes. 

St. Petersburg is anything but a picturesque city. Everything is there arranged 
orderly and conveniently; the streets are broad, the open spaces regular, the houses 
roomy; all is airy and light. There is no shade about the picture, no variety of tone. 
Everything is so convenient, so good-looking, so sensibly arranged, and so very mod- 
ern, that Canaletto would have found it hard to have obtained for his canvas a single 
poetical tableau, such as would have presented itself to him at every corner in old 
French, German, or English cities, so rich in contrasts, recollection, and variegated 
Hfe. The streets in St. Petersburg are so broad, the open places so vast, the arms of 
the river so mighty, that, large as the houses are in themselves, they are made to 
appear small by the gigantic plan of the whole. This effect is increased by the ex- 
treme flatness of the site on which the city stands. Ko building is raised above the 
other. Masses of architecture, worthy of mountains for their pedestals, are ranged side 
by side, in endless lines. Nowhere gratified, either by elevation or grouping, the eye 
wanders over a monotonous sea of luidulating palaces. 

This sameness of aspect is at no time more striking than in winter, when the 
streets, the river, and the houses are all covered with one white. The white walls 
of the buildings seem to have no hold upon the ground, and the Palmyra of the North, 
under her leaden sky, looks rather like the shadow than the substance of a city. 
There are things in Nature pleasing to look upon and gratifying to think of, and yet 
anything but picturesque, and one of these is St. Petersbm'g. 




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"No other place, however, undergoes a more interesting change in spring, when 
the sky clears up, and the sun removes the pale shi-oud from the roofs and the waters. 
The houses seem to recover a firm footing on the ground, the lively green of the 
painted roofs, and the azure star-spangled cupolas of the churches, with their gilt 
spires, throw off their monotonous icy covering ; the eye revels again in the long 
untasted enjoyment of color, and the river, divested of its wintry garment, flows again 
in unrobed majesty, and gayly mirrors the palaces ranged along its banks. 

As the city presents no elevated point, the spectator, to see it, must elevate him- 




Study of the Emperor, Winter Palace. 



self, and for this purpose there is no place better suited than the Tower of the 
Admiralty (see No. 14 on the accompanying view), from which the principal streets 
diverge, and near which the great arms of the river seem to meet. At the foot of the 
tower the inner yards of the admiralty present themselves. There the timbei- from the 
forests of Vologda and Kostroma lies piled in huge heaps, and mighty ships of war 
are growing into life under the busy hands of swarms of workmen. On the other 
side lie the splendid squares of the Admiralty, of Peter, and of the Court, along the 
sides of which are grouped the chief buildings of the city. The Hotel de I'Etat Major, 
[10] 



whence Russia'.s million of solditTs i-cceive their orders, the Senate House, and the 
Palace of tlic Holy Syiiod, in which the "meum" and "innni," the believing and 
rejecting, the temporal and the spii-itual concerns of a hundred nations are discussed, 
and determined; St. Isaac's Church, Avith its profusion of cohnnns, in which each stone 
is of colossal magnitude; the War (Jffice, where a thousand pens ply their peaceful labors 
in the service of Mars ; and the mighty Winter Palace, in a corner of Avhich dwells 
the great man, to whom one tenth of the human race look up with hope or anxiety, 
and whose name is prized or dreaded, beyond any other, over one half the surface of 
the globe. 

■To the south of the Admiralty the most important part of the city unfolds itself 
— the Bolshaia Storona, or Great Side. Towards the west lies Vasiliefskoi Ostrof, or 
Basilius Island, with its beautiful Exchange, its Academy of Sciences, and its University. 
To the north is seen the Petersburghskaia Storona, or Petersburg Side Island, with 
its Citadel stretching out into the IS^eva, and towards the east arise the factories and 
barracks of the Viborg Side. These are the four principal divisions of the city, formed 
by the Great and Little IS'eva, and by the Great IN'efka. The Great Side comprises 
by far the most important portion of the capital, with the court, the nobility, and 
more than half the population. Commerce appears to have selected Basilius Island 
for her especial residence, and the Muses have raised their temple by the side of 
Mercury's. The Petersburg side, a low and marshy island, remarkable chiefly for its 
fortress or citadel, whose enceinte drives the houses from the river side, is inhabited by 
the poorer classes of the population, and has already assumed much of the character 
of a metropolitan faubourg. 

Every country has a style of architecture, or, if that word be too high, of build- 
ing, peculiar to itself; and no where is the style of each more conspicuous than in 
its Capital. Russia also has a style of its own, but there is little of it seen in St. 
Petersburg. He who comes here expecting to find something national and character- 
istic in the general appearance of the houses, will be completely disappointed. Except 
for the churches, a stranger, in walldng through it, might suppose hunself in some new 
city of Italy, of France, or of Germany; for it has a little of the manners of each 
of these countries. Little wonder that it has not a Russian look ; for, until lately, 
no Russian had a share in adorning it ; not only the palaces, but all the streets were 
biult by foreign, chiefly Italian, architects. 

The Neva, the noblest of city rivers, serves to carry off the sm'plus waters of 
the Ladoga Lake. In this large reservoir the water has had full leisure to deposit 
all its impurities, and has not had time to collect any fresh ones, between the few 
leagues that intervene between the lake and the city. The water of the ISTeva, therefore, 
at St. Petersburg, is as clear as crystal, and reminds the ti-aveller of the appearance of 

[11] 



the Rhine, when it first issues from among the icy grottos of the Alpine ghiciers. About 
a league from its mouth the N^eva divides into several arms, forming thus a little archi- 
pelago of islands, which are either included within the City of St. Petersbvu-g, or con- 
tribute to its embellishment by their gardens and plantations. Over the large arms of 
the river, the communication by means of bridges is still in a most unsatisfactory con- 
dition. The two most important portions of the city, for instance, the Vassili Ostrof 
and the Great Side, are connected only by one bridge, the Isaac's Bridge, which 
merely consists of boarded carriage ways resting on pontoons. The first permanent 
bridge built over the Great ]N^eva is here represented. This gigantic and splendid 
specmien of naval architecture, constructed of iron and stone piers, was begun by the 
Emperor Nicholas I., in 1843, and finished in 1858. 





Nicholas Bridge. 



Among the various surprises excited by St. Petersburg, the greatest of any felt 
by the stranger is, that it should have been built hei-e at all. Whatever the city may 
have gained in strength against an enemy, by being placed in this position, it has 
lost in security from inundations, as well as in beauty. The object of its founder in 
placing it among inaccessible swamps, was to render it more safe from his active 
foes; but the ground is so low that the 'Neva at times sweeps irresistibly over a great 
part of the city. The inundations have often risen so high as to threaten the com- 

[12] 




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plete submersion of the finest quarters, and the sufferings and calamities by the dis- 
astrous inundations of 1824 are still unforgotten. 

A stranger, accustomed to the crowds of Paris, London, or New York, is struck. 




Light Cavalry of the Guards. 

On his arrival at St. Petersburg, by the emptiness of the streets. He finds vast open 
squares, in which at times he beholds nothing but a solitary droshki. that winds its 
way along like a boat di-ifting over the open sea. He sees spacious streets bordered 

[UJ 



by rows of mute palaces, with only here and there n human fiij^ure hovering about 
like a lurking- freebooter among a waste of roeks. The vastness of the plan on which 
the city is hiid out, shows that its founder speculated on a distant iuture. Kapidly 
as the population has Ix'on increasing, it is still insufficient to (ill the frame allotted 
to it, or to give to the streets that hie ami movement which we look for in the capital 
of a great empire. 



^.ti'iliiiii^iqilfl 



mm 



X\f 




Russian Veterans. 



The population of St. Petersburg is the most varied and motley that mind can 
imagine. The garrison of the Russian capital seldom amounts to less than sixty thousand 
men, and constitutes, therefore, about one tenth of the population. Neither officer nor 
private must ever appear in piiblic otherwise than in full uniform, and this may suffice 
to give some idea of the preponderance of the military owv the civil costumes that 
one encounters in the streets. Of all the endless variety of uniform that belong to 
the great Russian army, a few specimens are always to be seen in the capital, 

[15] 



There are the Pai'lor Guards, the Semeonor Guards, and the Parlogradski Guards 
'see page 14), the Sum hussards, the chasseurs a cheval, and sharpshooters on foot: 
the cuirassiers, grenadiers, pioneers, engineers, horse artillery, and foot artillery; to say 
nothing of dragoons, lancers, and those military plebeians, the troops of the line and 
the veterans (see page 15). All these, in their various uniforms, marching to parade, 
returning to their barracks, mounting guard, and passing through the other multifari- 
ous duties of a garrison life, are in themselves enough to give life and diversity to 
the streets. 

If, then, we turn to the more pacific part of the population, devoted to the less 
brilliant, but certainly more useful pursuit of commerce, we find every nation of Europe, 
and almost every nation of Asia, represented in the streets of St. Petersburg. French, 
Spaniards and Italians, Americans and English, Greeks and Scandinavians, may be 
seen mingling together; nor will the silken garments of the Persian and the Bokharian 
be wanting to the picture, nor the dangling tail of the Chinese, nor the pearly teeth 
of the Arabian. The " infima plebs " bears an outside as motley as the more aristo- 
cratic jjart of the community. The German " Bauer " may be seen lounging among 
the noisy bearded Russian; the slim Pole elbows the diminutive Finlander; the Estho- 
nians, Lettes, and Jews are running up against each other, while the Mussulman stu- 
diously avoids all contact with the Jew. Yankee sailors and dwarfish Kamtschadales, 
Caucasians, Moors, and Mongolians, all sects, races, and colors, contribute to make 
up the populace of the Russian capital. 

Nowhere does the street life of St. Petersburg display itself to better effect than 
in the l^evskoi Prospect (see page 13). This magnificent street extends from the 
Alexander Nevskoi Monastery to the Admiralty, a distance of four versts. Towards 
the end it makes a slight bend, but through the greater part of its length it is perfectly 
straight. It intersects all the rings of the city; the suburbs of the poor, the showy 
regions of commerce, and the sumptuous quarters of the aristocracy. From the 
Anitshkof Bridge to the Admh-alty (see page 17), is what may be called the fashion- 
able part of the Prospect. There we feel that we are in a mighty city, and as we 
advance, the bustle and the throng become greater and greater. Carriages-and-four 
at every step; generals and princes elbowing through the crowd; sumptuous shops, 
imj)erial palaces, cathedi-als and churches of all the various religions and sects of St. 
Petersburg. 

The scene in this portion of the street, from twelve till two o'clock when the 
ladies go shopping and the men go to look at the fair purchasers, may challenge com- 
parison with any street in the world. Towards two or three o'clock, the purchases 
have been made, the parade is over, the merchants are leaving the Exchange, the world 
of promenaders wend their way to the English Quay, and the real promenade for the 
day begins, — the Imperial Family equally mingling with the rest of the loungers. 
[16] 




THE ADMIRALTY. 



This mag-nificent Quay, constmcted, like all the Quays of St. Petersburg, of huge 
blocks of granite, ruus along the JSTeva, from the ISTew to the Old Admiralty, and 
was built during the reign of the Empress Catherine, who caused the canals and 




The Cottage of Peter the Great. 

rivers of her Capital, to the length of not less than twenty-four miles, to be enclosed 
in granite. The houses along the English Quay are deservedly called Palaces. They 
were originally, for the most part, built by Englishmen, but are now, nearly all of 
them, the property of wealthy Russians. 

[18] 



Another promenade, much frequented, is the Summer Garden, which lies on the Neva, 
close to the Trinity Bridge. It is laid out in a nuniljer of long avenues, interspersed 
with fioAver-beds, somewhat in the ancient style of gardening, with an abundance of 
marble statues of Springs and Summers, Floras and Faunas, and other divinities be- 
longing to the same coterie. This Garden is attended to as carefully almost as those 
of Zarskoye Selo, where a policeman is said to run after every leaf that falls, that 
it may instantly be removed out of sight. In autunni all the statues are cased in 
wooden boxes, to protect them against the rain and snow of winter, and all the tender 




Military Evolutions in the Champ de Mars. 

trees and shrubs are at the same time packed up in straw and matting, in which they 
remain till the return of spring, when statues, trees, and men lay their winter garments 
aside nearly at one and the same time. 

In one corner of the Summer Garden stands the little Cottage (see page 18) in 
which Peter the Great lived while laying the foundation and superintending the prog- 
ress of his new Capital. Many relics and memorials of him arc preserved about St. 
Petersburg, but this is by far the most interesting. The small sleeping-room is iimne- 
diately opposite the entrance ; but neither in it, nor in the other rooms, is door or 

[i;t] 



ceiling high enough for a tall visitor. It is bnilt of logs, painted to resemble bricks. 
The walls are hung with coarse canvas, whitewashed; the only piece of luxury being 
round the doors, which are edged with a pennyworth of flowered paper. To preserve 
this modest mansion from decay a good brick hoiise has been built round it, within 
which it nestles as dry as a kernel in its shell. In the space between the cottage 
and its case lies a very appropriate relic of the illustrious apprentice in the dockyards 
of Saardam — the boat, built by his own hands, in which he rowed about the IS'eva 
to his different woi'ks. 

On one side of the Summer Garden is the Tzarizmskoi Lug, or Champ de Mars. 
This place is more used than any other for exercising troops (see page 19), though 
there are several other parade places in the city, and many of them much larger than 
the Champ de Mars. The Alexandrofskoi Platzparad, the largest of all, occupies 
fully a square verst, but lies on the outskirts of the capital. The chief parade, however, 
is held in the Square of the Admiralty, and foj-ms one of the daily enjoyments of 
many of the inhabitants. 

The sixtieth degree of northern latitude crosses the subui'bs of St. Petersburg. 
Since the creation of the world no other city has displayed so much splendor and 
luxury so near the eternal ices of the pole, as this Imperial Residence; and the neigh- 
borhood of the Baltic Sea is, perhaps, the only one where such an attempt in such 
a parallel could have succeeded. The parallel under which St. Petersburg has built 
palaces and cultivated gardens, is the same under which, in Siberia, the Ostiaks and 
Fungusians find a scanty nourishment of moss for their reindeer, and Avhere the Kam- 
tschadale drives his dogs over never-melting ice. In the same circle where St. Peters- 
burg enjoys every luxury of the civilized and ixncivilized world, the Greenlander and 
Esquimaux, with their seal fat and train oil, barely keep alive the feeble glimmer 
of vegetation rather than life. Swampy Livonia, which even the Poles call harsh and 
raw, the province whence come the wild and pitiless snow-storms, called Ijy the Prus- 
sians Courland weather, are to the St. Petersburgers very agreeable and tolerably warm 
southern provinces. In Poland the Russian begins to look about him for tropical vege- 
tation; and of the nebulosa Germania, whose frigora and gray skies inspu-c the shud- 
dering Italian to strike the elegiac chords of his harp, the Petersburger thinks as of 
a land "where the orange trees bloom." 

The clunate of St. Petersburg oscillates continually between two extremes. In 
summer the heat often rises to 99° Fahrenheit, and in winter the cold as often falls 
to 55° below zero. This gives to the temperature a range of 154°, — which probably 
exceeds that of any other city in Europe. It is not only in the course of the year, 
however, but m the course of the same twenty-four hours, that the temperature is 
liable to great variation. In sununer, after a hot, sultry morning, a rough wind will 
set in towards evening, and drive the thermometer down twelve degrees unmediately. 
[20] 




INTERIOR OF ST. ISAAC'S CATHEDRAL,. 



In winter, also, there is often a difference of 12° or 18° between the temperature of the 
mornuig and that of the night. It would be impossible to preserve existence in such a 
climate, if man did not endeavor to counteract its fickleness by his own. unchangeable- 
ness. The winter is considered to begin in October and end in May ; and in the begin- 
ning of October every man puts on his furs, wliich arc calculated for the severest weather 




St. Isaac's Cathedral, 



that can come, and these furs are not laid aside agam till the winter is legitimately and 
confessedly at an end. "When the thermometer stands at 13°, every man pricks up his 
ears, and becomes a careful observer of its risings and fallings. At 22° or 23° all the 
theatres are closed, as it is then thought impossible to adopt the necessary precautions 

[•22] 







CHURCH OF PETER AND PAUL, IN THE FORTRESS. ST. PETERSBURG. 



for the safety of the actors on the stage, and of the coachmen and servants waiting in 
the street. The pedestrians, who at other times are rather leisurely in their movements, 
now run along the streets as though they were hastening on some mission of life or 
death; and the sledges dash in "tempo celeratissimo ^' over the creaking snow. Faces 
are not to be seen in the streets, for every man has drawn his furs over his head, and 
leaves but little of his countenance uncovered. Every one is uneasy about his nose and 
his ears; and as the freezing of these desirable appendages to the human face divine 
is not preceded by any uncomfortable sensation to Avarn the suiferer of his dangei', he 
has enough to think of if he Avishes to keep his extremities in order. "Father, father, 
thy nose!" one man will cry to another, as he passes him, or Avill even stop and 
apply a handful of snow to the stranger's face, and endeavor, by briskly rubbing the 
nasal prominence, to restore the suspended circulation. These are salutations to which 
people are accustomed; and as no man becomes aware of the fact when his own nose 
has assumed the dangerous chalky hue, custom prescribes, among all who venture into 
the streets, a kind of mutual observance of each other's noses, — a custom by which many 
thousands of those valued organs are early rescued from the clutches of the Russian 
Boreas. 

Extreme cold is usually accompanied by cheerful and quiet Aveather ; so that the 
magnificent City of St. Petersburg rarely appears to greater advantage than when the 
thermometer stands at thirty-five degrees below Fahrenheit's zero, when the sini shines 
brilliantly in a clear sky, Avhile its rays are reflected by millions of icy crystals. From 
houses and churches dense columns of smoke sloA\dy ascend. The snoAV and ice in 
the streets and on the I^eva are Avhite and clean, and the whole city seems clothed in 
the garments of Innocence. Water becomes ice almost in the act of being poured 
upon the ground. Every one in the streets appears to be running for his life ; and, 
indeed, is literally doing so ; for it is only by running that he can hope to keep life 
in liim. The trodden snow crackles and murmurs forth the strangest melodies, and 
every sound seems to be modified by the influence of the atmosphere. 

St. Petersburg, like Berlin, is a child of our days ; a birth that first saAV the 
light under the sun of a philosophical age. In opposition to Moscoav, as Berlin in 
opposition to Vienna, St. Petersburg has neither so many nor such distinguished churches 
as Moscow, although the major part are built in a pleasant and tasteful style, — in the 
modern Russian; which is a mixture of the Grecian, Byzantine, old Russian, and ucav 
European architecture, the Byzantine, Avhich was brought from Constantinople Avith 
Christianity, being the most prominent. A biiilding in the form of a cross; in the 
midst, a large cupola, and at the four ends, four small, narroAV-pointed cupolas, the 
points surmounted by crosses ; a grand entrance, adorned with many columns, and three 
side entrances without columns, — such is the exterior form of the greater part of the 
Russian churches. 
[24] 



The most magnificent church in St. Petersburg is St. Isaac's Cathedral (see page 
21), which was begun in 1819 and finished in 1858. This Imilding is extremely 
simple, but is rendered imposing by its tremendous proportions — Montferrand, the 
architect, prefei-ring to elicit the admiration of the l)eholders more by the lofty gran- 
deur of his style than by adding one more to the large number of elaborately orna- 
mented cathedi-als which existed m the different cities of Europe. Some idea may 




Church of Our Lady of Vladimir. 

be formed of its proportions and cost when it is known that the foundation-pile on 

which it stands, owing to the excessively marshy nature of the soil, cost over one million 

of dollars. Each of its four entrances is ornamented with a Porch supported by polished 

granite monoUth pillars, sLxty feet m height by seven in tliameter. Everything m this 

[25] 



elegant structure is made of the most costly materials. Over the centre of the building 
rises an immense Cupola, covered vi^ith copper overlaid with gold, and supported by 
thirty gigantic pillars of polished granite ; from the summit of this rises a smaller 
cupola of the same design, surmounted by an immense cross. The larger cupola is 
surrounded by four smaller ones, also in the same style. The small circular temple, 
or prestol, which forms the inmost shrine, was presented to the Emperor Nicholas by 
Prince Demidoff, owner of the malachite mines of Siberia. The cost was one million 
of dollars. The steps are of pophyiy, the floor of variegated marble, the dome of 
malachite, and the walls of lapis lazuli, the whole magnificently gilded. 

After St. Isaac's Church, that of Peter and Paul, in the fortress (see page 23), 
built by an Italian architect, under Peter the Great, is the most interesting. Its 
pointed slender tower rises like a mast, three hundred and forty feet in height ; for 
the last hundred and fifty feet the tower is so small and thin that it must be climbed 
like a pine tree. The summit of the cross by which it is surmounted is over twenty 
feet higher than the topmost of St. Paul's Cathedral in London, and in all Russia 
second only to that of Revel. This gilded spire is seen from all parts of St. Peters- 
burg, like a golden needle hovering in the air, particularly when, as it is frequently 
the case, the lower part is veiled in fog. 

The Peter-Paul Church is a kind of sequel to the Arkhangelskoi Sabor, in Mos- 
cow; the one contains the register of the deceased rulers of Russia, from where the 
other leaves off. In Moscow are interred the Russian czars down to Peter the Great; 
he, and those that succeeded him, in the Peter-Paul Church. Whoever has seen the 
monuments of the Polish kings at Cracow, or those of the French and English kings 
and Italian princes, will wonder at the simplicity and absence of ornament in this 
last resting-place of the Russian emperors. The single coffins are placed in the vaults, 
and over them, in the church, is nothing further in the shape of a monument, than a 
stone coffin-shaped sarcophagus, covered with a red pall, on which the name of the 
deceased emperor or emperor's son is embroidered in golden letters. 

The Churches of "Our Lady of Kasau," "Our Lady of Vladimir" (see page 25), 
&c., and the Smolnoi Convent, for nuns, and the St. Alexander ISTevskoi Convent, for 
monks, are among the more remarkable of the many religious edifices which we must 
leave undescribed. 

Before tlie chief front of the Winter Palace the vast edifice of the Generalty 
expands its enormous bow, to which the straight line of the Palace front forms the 
string. Between the bow and the string, at a like distance from either, the stately 
column erected in honor of Alexander I. rears itself. In no part of Europe have we 
seen anything worthy of being compared with this remarkable pillar. It is the great- 
est monolith raised in modern times, its height, including the figure on the top, and 
the cubic block that supports it, bemg one hundred and fifty feet, and its diameter 

[2GJ 




ALEXANDER'S COLUMN. 



fifteen feet. It is a round column of mottled red granite, from the quarries of Pytter- 
lax, in Finland, one hundred and forty miles from St. Petersbui^g. The eye is delighted 
■with the slender form of this giant; it is highly polished, and reflects the outlines of 
the surrounduig buildings in its cylindrical mnror. There is something sublime in 
its simplicity, and we have never seen anything that attracted us so much. You never 
think of asldng to whom it is raised; it has an interest quite distinct from any asso- 
ciations with hun whose memory it honors. You view it merely as a triumph of human 
power, which would tear such a mass from the reluctant rock, transport it so great a 
distance, and under so many difficulties, carve, and mould, and polish it into one 
smooth shaft, then poise the huge weight as lightly as a feather, and plant it here, 
to be the admiration of ages. 

This j)illar is founded on massive blocks of granite, and has a pedestal and capital 
of bronze, made froui the cannon taken in the wars Avith the Turks. The shaft alone 
is eighty-four feet high. On its top stands a bronze statue of Religion, in the act of 
blessing the surrounding city. If this unrivalled monument excites our admiration 
so strongly, even as it now is, what would have been thought of it had it been raised 
here of the full height in which it Avas cut from the quarry? Orders had been given 
to the director of the quarries to try and extract one solid mass, fit to be hewn into 
a column of a certain length. The operation was begun with shght hoj^es of success. 
It was deemed impossible ever to obtain one stone of such size. Ministers, generals, 
princes, the whole court, were in anxiety about Avhat the mountain should bring forth; 
when, at last — who shall describe their joy? — a courier arrived Avith the happy tidings 
that, for once, the labors of the mountain had not ended in disappointment. Expec- 
tation was even surpassed; for in place of eighty-four feet, a mass had been separated 
nearly one hundred feet long. There Avere no bounds to the delight insjiired by the 
news. St. Petersburg would noAV boast of a monument that might challenge the world. 
But, alas! there was a postscript to this famous letter. The director had been ordered 
to get a stone eighty-four feet long ; and as in Russia they are not in the habit of 
giAdng a man much credit for departing from the very letter of an imj^erial mandate, — 
and it being a bad precedent to alloAv any functionary to think for himself, — the zealous 
man of stones added, that he was now "busy saAving away the superfluous fourteen 
feet." Here was a pleasant piece of implicit obedience! The Emperor Mcholas was 
in despair ; l)ut as it was not his custom to commission others to do things which 
might be better done by himself, he posted away immediately, in hopes of still having 
his unexpected treasure ; and, as good luck would have it, arrived just in time — to 
see the fair fragment tumble off. This monolith was swung into its place (August, 
1832) in the short space of fifty-four minutes, by the French arcliitect M. de Mont- 
ferrand. 

In honoring his predecessor with a monument of this description, the Emperor 

[28] 



Nicholas may have been prompted by a wish to excel the boasted feat of the Em- 
press Catherine, who selected for the base of the bronze Equestrian Statue of Peter 
the Great, here represented, a large mass of grayish rock, lying in the middle of 
marshes, at such a distance from St. Petersburg, that every one believed it impossible 
to transport it thither. It is a rough, irregulai- mass, forty-three feet long, twenty-one 
broad, and fourteen high in fiont, from which it slopes gradually backwards. The 
inscription is beautifully simple : " Petro primo, Catharina seconda, 1782." Peter is 
seen riding gallantly up this rock, in the ancient costume of Muscovy, which, with a 




Statue of Peter the Great. 

short mantle flowing from his shoulders, has a very classical effect. He is without 
stirrups, and is so busy getting his steed to trample on the hydra of rebellion 
writhing beneath his feet, that he does not perceive the brink of the precipice till 
he is about to be plunged over it. Ever calm and fearless ui peril, he checks his 
horse as if by a wish, and pauses, with the greatest self-possession, to beckon into 
existence the ^^I'oud city which was to bear his name. This admirable work of art, 
executed by the French ai'tist Falconet, stands at the west corner of the Admiralty 
Square. 

Men are always eager about what is most difficult to be obtained. The Russians 
have a passion for these momitams of granite; probably because there is not a stone 

[29] 



bigger than a molehill within sight of their capital. If common materials could be 
procured at little expense, they would build monuments like other people; but smce 
stones may not be had for thousands, they must transport whole rocks at the expense 





.-='- ^^^L.z^t-^yi'iax'.gL^y/gJ : 



Triumphal Arch of Narva. 

of tens of thousands. In ISTorway and Sweden, which are strewed as thick with rocks 
as other countries are with furze-bushes, they build everything of wood. 

What have people elsewhere that St. Petersburg should not have? Egypt had 
its obelisks. St. Petersburg has hers also. Paris and Rome are adorned with columns 

[oO] 



and triumphal arches ; so is St. Petersburg. There are two triumphal arches there 
already. They span the two roads which connect the city with Ikt in..st imi)ortant 
territories; the one the road to N"arva and the Baltic provinces, the other, the Moscow 
road, leading to the heart of the empire. The former, called the Trium])hal Arch 
of Narva (see opposite page), commemorates the return of the victorious Eussian 
troops in 1815. The arch is supported by very high metal columns, and is surmounted 
by a triumphal car, which is drawn by six horses. In the car sits Victory, holding 




Tlie "Winter Palace. 



trophies of Glory and of Battles. Underneath, between the columns, are warriors in 
Sclavonian armor, awaiting their lam-el wi-eaths. 

'No modern city can boast that it is so entirely composed of palaces and colossal 
public edifices as St. Petersburg; in some of these several thousand persons reside: 

L.-ii] 



six thousand, for instance, are said to inhabit the Winter Palace during the Emperor's 
residence in the capital ; and when we look on this gigantic pile of building, repre- 
sented on page 31, we do not fail to remember that, in 1837, it fell a prey to the 
ravages of fire, and that in a few hours the greedy flames destroyed much of these 
treasures and works of art which had, with extraordinary zeal, been collected diu-ing 
the prosperous and magnificent reigns of Elizabeth and Catherine, and of their succes- 
sors, Alexander and l^icholas. In two years from the destruction of this palace it 
rose again, under the skilful hands of the architect Kleimnichael, and is now, certainly, 
one of the most splendid and largest royal edifices in the world. Its long facades are 
highly imposing, and form a grand continuation to those of the Admiralty beyond 
it. The principal entrance is the "Perron des Ambassadeurs," a magnificent flight 
of marble steps, leading from the JSTeva up to the State apartments. Suits of splendid 
apartments, galleries and halls, with gilded walls and ceilings, and filled with marbles, 
malachites, precious stones, vases, and pictures, constitute the gorgeous display of the in- 
terior. Among the finest apartments of the palace are the " Ilall of St. George," or " Au- 
dience Chamber," a parallelogram one hundred and forty by sixty feet, where the emperor 
gives audience to foreign ambassadors ; the Throne-room of Peter the Great; the Gallery 
of Field Marshals; the Alexander Gallery ; the Empress's Drawing-room, a beautiful 
apartment. The gem of the Palace, however, is the " Salle Blanche," which is so called 
from its decoi'ations being all in })ure white, I'elieved only with gilding. Here are held 
the court fetes, which are always got up on the most magnificent and sumptuous scale, 
no court entertainments in Europe surpassing those of St. Petersburg. 

The Hermitage is no cloistered solitude, no rocky grotto hidden among the 
waters of the ISTeva's murmuring sources, but a magnificent palace, second only to 
that we have just described, while within it is loaded with precious objects of art 
and vertu. The great Catherine built it, in order that she might retire to it in her 
leisure moments, there to enjoy the conversation of the French philosophers and men 
of learning; and here, after the duties of the sovereign had been transacted in the 
Winter Palace, she was wont to pass the evening, surrounded by all that could gratify 
the eye or the senses : musicians displayed their talents, artists their works, scientific 
men their speculations, and political men their opinions; for, in accordance with the 
ukase suspended in all the apartments, perfect freedom and equality reigned ; and 
the pictures which we see elsewhere only as allegorical representations of art and 
science, loving princes were here every day realized. Catherine not only built this 
luxurious retreat, but furnished those who were admitted to her intimacy with the 
opportunity of becoming acquainted with those adnnrable masterpieces of art which had 
graced the walls of many of the royal palaces of Europe, and thus laid the foundation of 
that Gallery of Paintings which is now without a rival in N^orthern Europe. The Hermi- 
tage was entirely reconstructed in its present form (see page 33) between 1840 and 1850, 
[32] 



from Eenaissance designs by the German architect, Leo Von Klenze ; and as far as elegant 
solidity in its architectnral form and costUness of tlae beautiful materials arc concerned, 
this edifice challenges competition with any in Europe. It Ibrms a parallelogram of five 
hundred and fifteen feet by three hundred and seventy-five feet, and everything in it 
IS of vast and noble dimensions — the vestibule, the hall, tlie marble staircase; every 





The Hermitage. 



pillar and monolith of Finland granite. On the grand floor is the Museum; on the 
lii'st floor the Picture Gallery. 

There are in St. Petersburg a number of families of the educated classes who have 
never visited the Hermitage; and how little is gained, compared with what might be, 
even by those who do? When we look at the listless faces of the sight-satiated public 
lounging past the pictures, we cannot help asking ourselves how so many painters 

[33] 



could ever obtain such exti'aordinaiy renown. Where is the enthusiasm for their works? 
— the rapture they inspire? For four thousand paintings, reflecting half the natural 
world and half mankind, a two hours' saunter; for thirty thousand engravings, a few 
minutes; for three rooms full of statues, as many passing looks; for the antiqviities of 
Greece, a couple of " Ahs ! " and " Ohs ! " and for twelve thousand cameos and gems, 
scarcely a half-opened eye! 

The most admired objects here are, beyond all doubt, the crowm jewels and other 





^"-tS^- -■£; - r Jcilt lA iilAKLbKlt=- 



The Michailoff Palace. 



valuables, arranged in a separate cabinet with them. For, boast as we may of our 
higher cultivation, the old Adam is so little driven from his kingdom, that we all 
grasp, like children and savages, more eagerly after what is bright and glittering, 
than after that which breathes life and grace. "Wliat is the water of Ruysdael's forest^ 
brooks to the water of the imperial diamonds?— all the melting lustre of Carlo Dolce, 
to the lustre of these pearls ? Cuyp's green meadows seldom touch the heai-t, but 
the green of the emerald in yon sceptre fills all hearts with hope and longing. 

"We human creatures, taken on the whole, are very sensual, rapacious, um-efined 

[34] 



beings, and when -we see hnndrcds yawning in tlie face of Rembrandt's " reverend old 
man," Ave scarcely sec one so mnch a pliilosopher as not to grow more animated 
when the jewel-keeper grasps his keys, and opens that magic cabinet. In fact, it 
Avonld be hard to find so many jewels together. The old connection of Russia with 
India and Persia has brought a quantity of precious stones into the treasmy; and 




^-'MlEKM.Lli.'i^ 



If.DE. LA. 



W^.il-t«lt • J'' 



The Great Theatre. 



lately her own subject mountains have opened their bosoms, and yielded such treasures, 
that many a private person might be well contented Avith what was meant for the 
imperial little finger alone. 

"When the Emperor Paul began to be afraid of his subjects, he intrenched himself 
behind the strong walls of the MichailoAV Samok (fort). lie pulled down the old 

[35] 



Summer Palace on the Fontanka, and built in its stead one of granite, surrounded 
by walls and ditches, and bristling with cannon, and dedicated it to the Archangel 
Michael, according to Russian custom, which dedicates to protecting saints not only 
churches, but fortresses, castles, and other buildings. Although it has been completely 
repaired, the Michailoff Palace (see page 34) has a more gloomy exterior than the 
other palaces of St. Petersbiu-g. It is an immense, high, strong, massive square, whose 
four facades all differ the one from the other. The ditches are partly filled up, and 
laid out in gardens, but the main entrance is still reached over several draw-bi'idges, 
like a Imightly castle in the middle ages. In the square before the chief gate stands 









Michael Theatre. 



a monument, insignificant enough as a work of art, ivhich Paul erected to Peter the 
Great, with the inscription, " Prodadu Pravnuk" (the grandson to the grandfather). 
This palace was built in an incredibly short space of time, at a cost of eighteen 
millions of rubles. It was abandoned soon after the death of Paul, and has never 
been dwelt m since. It is noAV the abode of the School of Engineers. The rooms 
where Paul was murdered are sealed and walled up. The Russians generally do this 
with the room in which their parents die. They have a certain dread of them, and 
never enter them Avillingly. 

The pamted ceilings of the principal halls have considerable interest. In one are 
[30] 



represented all the gods of Greece, whose various j^hysiogiiomies are those of persons of 
the court at tliat time. The architect, whose purse profited considerably by the building 
of the castle, appears auioug them as a flying Mercury. Wlien Paul, who was a ready 
punster, and who knew very well that all the money he paid was not changed into 




The Exchange. 

stone and wood, caused the different faces to be pointed out to him, he recognized 
the face of the Mercury du-ectly, and said, laughing, to his courtiers, "Ah! voilk 

I'architecte qui vole" 

The theatres of St. Petersburg are generally built in a uniform and very indif- 

[37] 



ferent style of architecture, but they are admirably conducted, for the simple reason 
that the government has the sole charge and management of them. A government 
censor examines every piece before it is performed, that nothing injurious to the mor- 
als of the citizens may be produced. Of course the best scenery and dresses are 
used, and the accommodations for the public are admirable. The Great Theatre (see 
page 35), built in 1836, and capable of containing about three thousand persons, 
is devoted to the Italian Opera, where one of the best troupes of Europe may always 
be heard during the winter season. In the Michael Theatre (see page 36), French 
plays are performed by troupes as fine as any in Paris. 

The Exchange of St. Petersburg (see page 37) is more favorably situated than 
many great public buildings. It stands on the extreme point of Vassili Ostroff, with 
a noble open space before it, and is reared on elevated foundations. On either side 
the superb granite quays, that give solidity to the point of the island, divide the 
majestic river into two mighty arms, in which it flows in calm power to the right and 
left. Stately flights of granite steps lead doAvii to the river. On the space before 
the building, two massive " Columnae rostratfe," above a hundred feet in height, and 
decorated with the prows of ships cast in metal, have been erected to the honor of 
Mercury. These columns are hollow; and on the summits, which are reached by flights 
of iron steps, are gigantic vases, that are filled with combustibles on all occasions of 
public illumination. The great hall, of colossal proportions, is lighted from above. At 
either end and on both sides are spaces in the form of arcades: in one of the first 
stands an altar, with lamps constantly burning, for the benefit of the pious Russian mer- 
chants, who always bow to the altar, and sometimes even prostrate themselves, on their 
enti-ance, to implore the f;ivor of all the saints to their undertakmgs. The blue or green 
modern frock coats of the worshippers form as curious a contrast, with their long 
patriarchal beards, as the altar itself, with its steps covered with an elegant Parisian 
carpet and its age-blackened image of a saint, which none would venture to mod- 
ernize any more than they would attempt to put the razor to the Russian mercantile 
chin. 

Historians say so much about Peter's firmness in extirpating the long beards in 
which his people delighted, — with his own imperial hand cutting ofi", not the beards 
merely, but the heads, of the refractory, — that we expected to find the chins of the 
Russian as naked as those of barbers' blocks. But there are national prejudices too 
strong even for the most unshrinking reformer. The Russian loves his beard with 
no common love, and there it still flows in ample waves to his gu'dle, defying alike 
the beheading-sword and the i-azor. The peasant would sooner part with his purse 
than with his beard; it is his pride, his birthright. Better abandon children and home 
to wander into forlorn exile, than give up the only thing left him to glory in. Liberty 
is not worth contending for, but a beard is. Liberty is but a ivord, an untangible, 
[38] 



fanciful thing, Avliich no man ever saw or could make money of; a Ijeard is a rcalitj''; some- 
thing which a man can not only see, but handle also. And if he cannot exactly make 
money by a beard, it gives him that wliich is better than gold, for he knows that no 
true Russian maid would look to him il' shorn of this beauteous appendage. Without 
his beard he would neither have affection from others, nor respect from himself. A Ijcard 
is graceful, imposing, venerable, — in one word, it is Russian. 

Wliether the long beard is consistent with cleanliness, is a question soon settled 



a;^ 








/H/tMSM^' i /5. 



C/i/\^l.£B!^ 



Imperial Library. (Room of the Incunabula.) 

in the streets of St. Petersburg. ISTothing can be more filthy than the appearance of 
the people. The nature of their dress powerfully contributes to the disgusting appear- 
ance of the native population, — greasy sheep-skins being not great promoters of clean- 
liness. It is a notorious foct, also, that the great bulk of the people never allow water 
to touch the person, except once a week, — on Saturday evening, when their religion 
prescribes a visit to the bath, when they get such a thorough ablution as entitles them 
to eight days' filthiness. To wash the face on ordinary week-days is a folly unknown; 
the hands may, by a few, be occasionally polluted with water. In the country, a small 

[39] 



jar of this scarce liquid may be seen hanging by some of the doors, for washing with; 
at least a thimbleful being allowed, oozing from below, to each person. At some 
inns, and eating houses also, a metal cistern, of the smallest dimensions, hangs by the 
entrance; from which, on pushing up the pin stuck in the bottom, a few drops of water 
trickle, to smear the hands with, before going to dinner. But the practice is scarcely 
associated in our minds with any idea of cleanliness; the towel hanging near having 




Academy of Arts. 

already been used by every comer for a week past, and bemg often as black as if it 
had been scouring the sauce-pans. 

The Imperial Pubhc Library, situated on the Nevskoi Prospect, is one of the 
richest in Europe. It contains eight hundred thousand prmted volmiies, twenty thou- 
sand manuscripts, and a collection of incunabula (see page 39), or books printed before 
the year 1500, wliich is generally considered to be unique. The building itself has been 

[40] 



manv times enlarged, to suit tlic increasing size of the library. The last addition, 
made in 1862, consists of a iHautiful ix'ading-rooni, only equalled by that of the Na- 
tional Lilirary in Paris and that of the British Museum in London. 

On the Vassili Ostrof, not far from the Exchange, stands the Academy of Arts. 
This building was erected by a Russian architect, between the years 1705 and 1788. 
The fa9ade, on the Neva (see page 40), aliout four hundred feet in lengtli, and 
adorned with columns and pilasters, is very fine. Tiie lower floor is devoted to sculp- 
ture; above are galleries appropriated to paintuigs, and on the second story a large 




The Vauxhall (.Garden Islands). 

collection of drawings, illustrating the i)rogress of architectural art, together with a 
well-lighted hall, destined for an annual exhibition of paintings, held in September. A 
fine collection of French, Belgian, and Oerman pictures was bequeathed to the pic- 
ture gallery by Count Kouchelef, in 1864, greatly adding to its interest and A-alue. 

In the whole delta of the Neva there are more than forty islands, great and 
small. Some of these islands, although all belong to the precincts of the city, are still 
perfectly desert, inundated by the sea and the Neva, visited only l)y seals, or by 
wolves who come over the ice. Such are the Volney Islands, the TruMitanoff Islands, 
and some others. The largest are the often-named Vassili Ostrof, the St. Peters- 



biirg Island, and the islands formed by the !Moika, Fontanka, and the other canals. 
These are almost enth'ely occupied b}' the houses of the city, and form the centre of 
the island-metropolis. IS'orth-west of St. Petersburg Island lie five others of moderate 
size, separated by the arms of the greater and lesser ^N'evka, and the Keva : these 
are the islands, emphatically so called, the " Garden Islands," — Krestovsky, Kammessoi 
Ostrof, Petrofskoi Ostrof, Yelaginskoi Ostrof, and the Apothecary Island. When they 
say, in St. Petersburg, "■ We will go to the Islands this sunnner," " We Avill make a 
party to the Islands," they mean these five Garden Islands, and no others out of 
the whole forty. IS'othing can l)e more lively and varied than the sights witnessed 
there in summer. Gay palaces for the royal family, and handsome carriage-drives for 
the nobles, adorn tliem; while on them, also, the lower classes find the ordinary means 
of amusing themselves, — eatmg-rooms, dancing-places, concerts, &c. The most popular 




Fortress of Schlusselburg. 

public garden is the Vauxhall (see page 41). The Garden Islands may, therefore, be 
said to form l^oth the " Champs Elysees " and " Bois de Boulogne " of St. Petersburg. 
They are much farther away from the centre of the capital than these places are from 
that of Paris, but the cheapness of the droschky brings them near, as their crowded 
state shows. 

The bi-anches of the river, which twine round these islands in most confusing 
but beautiful variety, give to the scenes a singular life and interest. The waters are 
constantly enlivened by gay barges, shooting past in every direction, with lofty prows, 
and gaudy streamers floating Ijehind; in these, many, and generally the merriest parties, 

[42] 



come all tlu> ^\i\\ by the river; soiiu' shaded l)_y striped awnings, some sitting unpro- 
tected, but all singing most beaulirully. 

Singing, in fact, is one of the great amusements on these islands; and though the 
Russian is generally a most disagreeable vocalist, when heard alone, nolhing can be 
more delightful than to lu'ar two or three of them joining in their national airs to- 
gether. To the Russian, singing appears to be as natural as speaking is to other 
nations. The moment a stone-cutter gets the chisel in his hand, tlie song begins; 
and the " yemtchik " (i)ostilion), in seizing the reins, strikes up his hoi'rid melody, as 
regularly as if the amount of hire depended on the qualities of his voice. Watch a 








!f '■^iMeiiMiif^ 









Cronstadt. 



party of friends returning at night: if in a boat, the oars keep time to their harmony; 
if on foot, the pavement rings with their measured steps. But most of all are they 
musical in their droschkies. Five, six, or eight of them will crowd on one of these 
vehicles: hoAV they do not all tumble off — like that bearded gentleman, or long-gowned 
lady, whom you see rolling in the niutl not tar ofi' — is wonderful. KotAvithstanding 
this accident, the song is not stopped — the vehicle is, perhaps ; but the worthy fallen 
continues his song till raised l)y his brethren, who build themselves on again, and. 
dj'ive away, with a fury of voice increased liy the delay. 

From the Garden Islands up to Lake Ladoga, a distance of twenty-one miles, 

[43] 



the IS'eva is extremely beautiful. At the point where the river issues from the lake, 
rises, on a small island, the old and celebrated fortress of Sclilusselburg, that we 
give on page 42. It is the key and only outwork for the defence of the capital 

on the east. 

Cronstadt — the great bulwark of Russia, her chief naval station, and most thiiving 
trading-port, all in one — stands on a naked, sandy island, al)Out five miles long and 
one broad, in the middle of the narrowing Gulf of Finland, sixteen miles from St. 




Sailing Vessels of the Baltic Fleet. 

Petersburg, five or six from the rising shores of Istria on the south, and the same 
distance from the flatter coast of Carelia on the north. The island is so perfectly 
level that no ground is seen in approaching it; it looks (see page 4.3) a vast fortress 
rising on piles, rather than a town on solid ground. 

So strongly is it defended by every device which skill can suggest, that many 
look upon it as impregnable. One part of its strength lies in the shallowness of the 

[44] 



g-ulf about it: except on one small lliu', there is not more than eight feet of water 
all roiuul it. Ships can ap[)r()acli only throngli a narrow, winding channel, with twenty- 
six or twenty-eight feet of water, along A\liich stand se\cral fortifications of immense 
strength, and so placed that wo enemy could pass without being demolished by their 
united fire. First conies the Citadel, close by the passage Avhich all ships nuist take; 
then follow the frowning battei-ies on the Riesbank rock; and lastly, stronger than 
all, the Castle of Cronschlott, a i)olygon with double batteries. 

■Wliether viewed in detail, or as a whole, Cronstadt is every way worthy to be the 
outpost of the largest empire of Europe. There is nothing mean or disappointing 




Palace of Peterhof. 



about it, as is often the case with the first places seen in approaching a new coun- 
try. It speaks boldly out, an unblushing frontispiece to tales of war and despotism. 

During our voyage from France to Cronstadt and St. Petersburg, it had been 
our fortune to behold a stirring exhibition of Russia's strength. It was about noon, 
m the month of July, when our attention was di*awn to a large vessel bearing down, 
with all sail set. She pi-()\'ed to ha a ship of the line of the largest dimensions. 
Another soon appeared — another — and' another ; 

" The cry was still, ' They come ! ' " 

till we could reckon about twenty-five men-of-wai', all m view at the same moment. 

[45] 



A moi-e splendid scene, it had never lieen our fortune to witness. Such a number, 
even of small vessels, would have formed a beautiful sight; but the effect produced 
by this vast array of large ships is beyond description. 

When the first feelings of wonder had subsided, we rubbed our eyes, and began 
to ask where we could have got to? We were in the midst of the sailing vessels 




Monastery of St. Sergius. 

of the Baltic fleet (see page 44), which was now out on its annual cruise ; and 
we had come just at the luckiest moment, the ships being all in their highest 
trim, in expectation of the emperor, who was on his way down to superintend the 
manoeuvres which were to take place before a great proportion of the fleet should 
return to port for the season. Such a splendid sight we never expect to see again. 

[4G] 



The day was most beautiful ; every ship liad lier sails set, aud jiloughed tlie waters 
with the graee of some stately bird that seareely rulUes lier ualive lake. The fme 
breeze kept all iu motiou. Signals for ehangiug position were rapidly passing from 
one end of the line to the other; new groups, the most varied and most beautiful, 
were thus every moment presenting themselves. A little more of storm — something 
of danger — black hurrying gloom in place of that sunny sky, and it would have 
been a scene for a Vernet. 

From Cronstadt to Peterhof, a distance of about eleven miles, a series of country 
houses stretch along the coast of the gvrlf. The Palace of Peterhof, that we have 
given on page 45, was commenced in 1720, by Leblond, under the direction of Peter 
the Great. Alterations and additions have been made to the building by every sue- 




Statue of the Emperor Nicholas. 

ceeding emperor and empress, but the general character is still preserved, even to its 
color, yellow, which is continually renewed. Its architecture is veiy insignificant in 
character, and deserves as little to be mentioned with Versailles and the other French 
chateaux which may have served as models, as the Kasan Church deserves to be 
compared with St. Peter's at Rome. Anunating as the view is from the lofty coast 
over the sea, covered with ships of war and merchantmen, it is strange enough that 
the main front of the castle should be turned landwards. Downwards to the sea- 
shore, the garden descends in terraces, adorned with foiuitains and waterfalls. The 
basins, the Neptunes, storks, swans, and Kymphs, the Tritens, dolphins, painted rocks, 
and grottos, are copied from the engravuigs m Ilushfeld's Art of Gardening ; but 



we cannot pass the oaks and lime trees planted by Peter himself Avithout reverence. 
The smaller buildings of Marly and Montplaisir, which lie under these trees, as wings 
to the larger edifice, remind the beholder of the modest arrangements of the carpen- 
ter of Saardam, the great reformer of Eastern Europe. 

About six miles farther on we come to the Monastery of St. Sergius (see page 
46), which was founded in 1734, the grounds having been bestowed, by the Empress 
Anne, on "VVarlaam, the superior of the Froitsa Monastery, near Moscow. By him the 
first church and cells were built. The principal church is probably one of the pret- 
tiest in Russia; it stands on an elevation which overlooks the estuary of the Neva, 
and, with its stalls of oak and open roof, has an appearance of elegance which is 
possessed by few of the Russo-Greek churches. Underneath are the sepulchral 
vaults and mortuary chapels of many great families. Great crowds assemble here on 
Sundays to listen to the music and singing at the monastery, which are always 
very fine. 

[48] 








Russia is the largest and the ngUest country in the world. ]S^ature seems to 
have lavished all her deformity on tliis one empire, which, without question, covers 
the least beautiful portion of the whole habitable globe. With the exception of the 
Crimea, the Russian Italy, — and even of it must we speak in terms of veiy moderate 
praise, — there is scarcely a single inch of this overgrown territory that can be called 
picturesque. In Russia, it is possible to travel five hundi'ed miles without being once 
arrested by a romantic scene. He who journeys over it, cannot indeed say, "It is all 
barren;" for he passes many an interesting sight; but assuredly he will not find a 
single beautiful mountain, nor a rugged clifi*, nor a brawling stream, nor a fresh green 
glen to detain him. He finds nothing but the dead, wearisome, ceaseless monotony 
of tame plains and tamer forests. 

Yet if Russia possesses little beauty in point of scenery, in one respect it sur- 
prises the stranger most completely. He comes exiiecting to find large portions of 
it entu-ely desert; and, doubtless, there are many in this state: but the lines through 
which the great roads lie are generally so well cultivated, that, with the exception 

[49] 



of the Steppes, Russia will by no means be found such a wilderness as we usually con- 
ceive it to be. 

On the road from St. Petersburg to I^^ovgorod, and, indeed, throughout the whole 
of Russia, a house is almost never seen standing by itself : the peasants are all con- 
gregated in small villages, containing from thirty to one hundred houses which are 
fairly illustrated by the accompanying engraving. It is in these places that the Rus- 
sian is found in unsophisticated purity. Flatterers may prate as they please about 
the progress Russia is making : the Russian, whatever his country has been doing, 
remains exactly where Peter found him. That royal reformer gave him a push for- 





Village of Gouinmit, near Novgorod. 

ward, after his rude fashion, but the moment its influence ceased to be felt, the good 
Russian came to a stand-still, and there you may see him at this hour, in his skins, 
and his shoes of bark, standing by the door of his filthy dwelling, everything pre- 
cisely the same as early authors describe. 

Novgorod- Yeliki, that is, the " Great," is the cradle of the Russian empire, and 
stands one hundred and twenty miles south-west of St. Petersburg. It is well laiown 
that in the days of its commercial prosperity this city was so splendid, that the 
proverb said, " There is uotliing great but God and Novgorod ; " but now it is so 

[50] 



sadly fallen that its one huiidred thousand inhabitants have dwindled to less than 
twenty thousand. It is, however, still a very showy, interesting place, with its time- 
worn Kremlin, wide, well-paved streets, St. Petersburg houses, and, above all, a most 
romantic history. There is a fine iron bridge, founded on granite pillars, built across 




Cathedral of St. Sophia. 

the Yolkhotf, the river which drains Lake Ihnen; hut the churches are the only sur- 
viving monuments of the greatness of IS'ovgorod. 

Foremost among them stands the Cathedral of St. Sophia (which is here presented), 

[51] 



or, as it was formerly styled, "The heart and soul of Great ISTovgorod," where the 
princes were crowned, and in front of which the Yeches, or popular assemblies, were 
sometimes held. This building was originally constructed, in 1045, by the grandson 
of St. Yladimir, after a model of Justinian's Temple. It was pillaged by the Prince 




Types of Novgorod. 



of Polotsk in 1065, lynd by the Opritchnilcs, under John the Terrible, in 1570. The 
entire building was completely restored in 1837. 

The Russians are naturally sober and self-denying, can live long without indul- 
ging in excess, are most industrious when it is in their power to gain a little, and 
anxious to store up something against the evil day. Yet, put liquor in their way, 

[.52] 



— lot temptation come across the path, — and that instant, favewoU sobriety, inclustr}^ 
saving habits! all are forgotten as much as if they had never been known. 

That propensity is the worst part of the Russian character. Nothing is more 
common, in the quiet streets of [N^ovgorod, than to meet a pair of blue-coated gentle- 
men reeling home in most helpless intoxication. They neither see nor hear you. If 
they run against the passenger, they think it is the wall that they have struck, and 
shoulder on, without moving eye or lip. They are generally arm in arm, trying to 
help each other: but the efibrt cannot be continued much longer; they are evidently 
getting more oblivious. There is neither oath nor angry word betwixt them ; they 
are reeling on in perfect silence and brotherly love. They have still some sense of 
shame left, and are anxious to get home out of sight: they raise their feet to make 
longer steps, — Imt it will not do ; the foot falls where it rose from; the head is 
getting giddier, the street wider, the limbs feebler, till down they fall in the nearest 
gutter, snoring in most complete insensibility. A melancholy, but a too frequent sight! 
If the emperor coidd eradicate this debasing propensity, he would do more for his 
people than if he should overrun Asia. 

There is something remarkable, too, in the Russian's way of getting drunk. Even 
m his vices he is unlike othei- people. Some nations drink for amusement; the Rus- 
sian drinks to get drunk, and that in a moment. He enters a brandy-shop, beckons 
to the master, coimts down his kopecks, seizes the measure, and, at one draught, 
quaffs enough to make him a beast. 

Some nations seek to justify their drinldng l)y the pretext that they do so to 
make themselves merry, — their phlegmatic blood will not move without a stimulant. 
The Russian drinks to make himself sad. He needs no stimulus to put him into 
spirits ; he is by nature the merriest soul alive. Frolicsome as a young colt, he 
may be seen, Avhen two or three have got together on a walk, flinging his heels as 
high as the trees, playing all manner of fantastic tricks with his companions, and 
keeping the ring in laughter with his jokes. But the moment this happy creature 
has swallowed the poisonous dose, he becomes heavy, flat, and powerless. Mirth and 
strength alike are gone. He must be cared for by the police, or tied in the drosch- 
ky among his mates. 

Two miles out of IS'ovgorod is the Monastery of Yuryeff (see page 54), one 
of the most ancient in Russia, having been founded by Yaroslaf, son of Yladimir, 
in 1031. It stands on an elevation between the Volkhov and Kniajovka Rivers, and 
presents from a distance a most picturesque appearance. Within the monastery are 
three churches, the oldest dating from 1119, and dedicated to George the Martyr. 
The chai-ters given to the monastery in 1128 and 1132 are among the objects shown 
to the visitor; also an altar-cloth of the fifteenth century, and a cross, presented m 
1599, which is studded with pearls and precious stones. 



To a stranger, the humble Russian peasant, in liis sheep-skin, is worth all his 
civilized superiors in the empire. Wlierever he may be seen, he is a most interest- 
ing sixbject for stncly; but nowhere more than in church. Follow him into one of 
the beautiful churches of Yuryeff, and you will find him on his ki^ees, repeating his 
prayers after the priest, with a fluency which nothing can arrest, and a devotion 
which nothing can distract. Pass him, or jostle him as you may, he is too deeply 
engaged with his pious work to take the least notice of you. It is always painful 
to be present, an unconcerned spectator, where a religious service is going forward 




Monastery of Yuryeff. 



in which the heart cannot join. We feel as if intruding on that Avhich we have no 
right to witness, and seem to scoff without wishing to do so. In Russia, however, 
there is no occasion for feeling thus. Let the stranger take off his hat on entering, 
and he is no more looked at than one of the pillars; he disturbs nobody. 

During our stay in l^ovgorod we had an opportunity of witnessing a church 

marriage ceremony, of which we had read so many dissimilar accounts. The officiating 

priest, decked in his church vestments, advanced from the sanctuary towards the door 

of entrance into the chixrch, and there received the pan- about to be made happy, to 

[54] 



whom he (Iclivcrcd a h<;liti'cl taper, making' at the same time the sign of the cross 
thrice on their foreheads, and conducted them to the upper part of the nave. We 
stood by the side of the table on which were deposited the rings and the silvered 
crowns, and before which the priest halted, and from which he pronounced, in a loud 




Church Marriage Ceremony. 



and impressive voice, a short prayer, his face being turned towards the sanctuary, and 
the bride and bridegroom placed immediately beliind him, holding their lighted tapers. 
The priest, next turning round to the couple, blessed them, and takuig the rings 

[55] 



from the table, gave one to each, beginning with tlie man, and proclaiming aloud that 
they stood betrothed, " now and forever, even unto ages of ages," which declaration 
he repeated thrice to them, while they mutually exchanged the rings an equal number 
of times. The rings were now agam sin-rendered to the priest, who crossed the 
forehead of the couple with them, and put them on the forefinger of each; and, turn- 
ing to the sanctuar}', read another impressive part of the service, in wliich an allusion 
is made to all the circumstances in the Holy Testament where a ring is mentioned 
as the pledge of union, honor, and power. 

The priest, now taking hold of the hands of both parties, led them forward and 
caused them to stand on a carpet, which lay spi'ead before them. The congrega- 
tion usually watch this moment with intense curiosity, for it is augured that the 
party which steps first on the carpet will have the mastery over the other through life. 
In the i^resent case, the fair bride secured jiossession of tliis prospective privilege with 
modest forwardness. The priest then placed the two silvered crowns on the heads 
of the happy pair, and blessing the common cup which was brought to him, gave 
it to the bridegroom, who took a sip from its contents thrice, and transferred it 
to her who was to be his mate, for a repetition of the same ceremony. After a 
short prayer, the priest took the bride and bridegroom by the hand, and walked with 
them round the table thrice, having both their i-ight hands fast in his, froiu west to 
east. 

Then taldng off the bridegroom's crown, he said, "Be thou magnified, O bride- 
groom, as Abraham! Be thou blessed as Isaac, and multiplied as Jacob, walking in 
peace, and pei'forming the commandments of God in righteousness ! " In removing the 
bride's crown, he exclaimed, " And be thou magnified, O bride, as Sarah ! Be thou 
joyful as Rebecca, and multiplied as Rachel ; delighting in thine own husband, and 
observing the bounds of the law, according to the good pleasure of God ! " The 
ceremony now drew to its conclusion; the tapers were extinguished, and taken from 
the bride and bridegroom, who, walking towards the holy screen, were dismissed by 
the priest, received the congratulations of the company, and saluted each other. 

From this scene of joy we turn to one of grief and sorrow, to examine the 
usages prevalent in Russia in regard to the disposing of the dead. A Russian fu- 
neral, from what we have seen, difters but little from that of the Catholics. There are, 
however, a few circumstances attendmg it, which are commonly observed in the inte- 
rior of the country. When a patient is m imminent danger, and death seems to 
await him, he assembles his family round his bed, and blesses them with an image, 
and with some bread and salt, distributing gifts, and declaring his testamentary de- 
termination. After his dissolution the eyes and mouth are closed by the nearest 
relative, when two copper coins are laid on the former. After some time the body 
is washed and di^essed. A priest is now sent for, who perfumes the body with in- 

[5G] 



cense, singing a psalmody over it. It is then [)iaced in the cofHn, whicli is kept 
open and exposed on a tahle, and a succession of priests and clerks attend in the 
chamber of death, reading the Gospel or the Psalter, both by day and night. On 
the third day the body is taken to the church, where the coffin is still left open, 
while the officiating priest recites the prayer for the dead. After the interment, the 
friends, who have been invited by cards to the ceremony, just as if it were to a dinner 
or to a rout, return to the house of the deceased, where a taljle, spread with refresh- 
ments, offers an opportunity to the spectators to recruit their strength. The principal 




Funeral of a Poor Russian. 



dish is the koutiya, which is a composition of honey, wheat, and raisins. The priest 
first blesses and incenses this dish, of which every one immediately after partakes. The 
funerals of the poorest class are, of course, more summarily conducted, and you cannot 
travel long in the interior of Russia before witnessing some scenes similar to that here 
represented : a shaggy, bony horse, looking like the very emblem of hunger and 
misery, harnessed to a sledge only consisting of a pair of skates coarsely joined ; on 
this shabby vehicle, a coffin scarcely nailed, and covered with a sheep-skin. A poor 
little ragged girl, seated on the coffiii, drives the horse, and a woman carries the cross 

[57] 



which will mark the resthig-place of her departed husband. Where are the relatives 
and the friends? 

Mitau, which we present here, is the capital of Courland, and lies on its most 
important navigable river, the Aa, in a sandy yet fruitful district. The surrounding 
country is free from forests and marshes, and towards the south is particvdarly adapted 
for the growth of Avheat. The situation of Mitau is another circumstance favorable to 
its prosperity. The province has somewhat the form of a snake, with a very large 
head, and small, tapering tail. Mitau is situated neai-ly in the centre of this figure, 
alike distant from tail and head, in the heart of the country, in its most fertile dis- 
trict, on its most navigable river; and it is not to be wondered at that first the great 




umofi; -^chR 



jl. ^A/fO-£JV T. 



Mitau. 



masters of the knights, and afterwards the dixkes and nobles, should have selected it 
for the capital, the residence of the court, and the rendezvous of society and refine- 
ment, and that under the Russian dominion it should have remamed the seat of 
government, and the residence of the highest aiithorities of Courland. Mitau is, con- 
sequently, the most unportant and best known town in the province. Any one who 
hears Mitau mentioned by a petty proprietor of the interior, who, living in his wooden 
castle, takes little part in the doings of the fashionable Avorld, would imagine Paris 
or London was spoken of Its social chcles are the highest objects of ambition to 



the young gentlemen and iuclies of Coiu-land; and tlie Lettes speak of Yelgava, as 
they call it, as if it was the capital of the world. 

The most distinguished edifice of Mitau is the Castle, the old residence of the Cour- 
land dukes. This castle (see page 58), an extensive, gigantic building, in the style 
of Versailles, lies on an island surroimded by the arms and canals of the Aa. It was 
built by the powerful favorite Biron, who by Russian ifiifluence became Duke of Cour- 



5 \W- '<^%'^.^ 



^ffijv^' 






•^-vtif [ 




r^.jti-^^^^ 



Types of Mitau. 



land; it was inhabited by two dukes, was almost entirely destroyed by a fire in 1788, 
was rebuilt, and became subsequently an asylum for the fugitive king, Louis XYIII. 
It now serves as a residence for the chief oflicers of the city, and apartments are 
reserved for the members of the imperial family, whenever they may hapjien to pass 
through Mitau. 

[•■'■>] 



The population of Mitaii amounts to twenty thousand, but it is difficult to say what 
part of this population can he described as permanent residents, the noble families 
inhabiting the town only in the winter, and many of them only for three or four weeks. 
The merchants, lawj^ers, artists, and men of letters are almost all Germans. The poor- 
est and most miserable inhabitants are the Jews, four or five families of whom often 
live " cubbed up " together in a damp, dark cellar, and lead a life that it is difficult 
to think worth preserving, yet to which they cling as if it were a costly jewel. 

The environs of Mitau have few pleasing features. Though its citizens are not 
confined in walls and ramparts, — for its suburbs gradually lose themselves in the open 








The Chase. 



country, — yet the inhabitants keep as strictly within the town, as if they Avere besieged 
by a hostile army. If sandy wastes, dreary deserts, and snow-storms are enemies, 
they are, indeed, almost the whole year in a state of blockade. Mitau is not surrounded 
by pleasant villages and gardens ; immediately without its gates begin the wide domains 
of the " Bene possessionati," and the castles and mansions of the nobility follow one 
another as in the interior of the country, except that they are closer to each other than 
in other parts of Courland. On the right hand a morass, on the left a marsh, then 
flat, sandy wastes or sand hills raised mto waves and undulations by the wind; here 
[60] 



and there a few firs or beech trees; far and wide a l)arren Avilderness; such, all around 
the mouth of tlie Dwina, i>s the country from Mitau to Riga and the sea. 

'Novf that tliere are no more heathens and barbarians to attack, the most important 
occupation for a Courhxnder or Livonian is the chase, whether directed against wolf, 
bear, badger, elk, lynx, deer, hare, otter, snipe, heron, swan, or heath-cock. No one 
is a hunter by profession, but every one is a born sportsman, and hunts and shoots 
for pleasure. N^othing is forbidden game ; and every man — that is, every nobleman 
— may shoot bears and elks as freely as sparrows. 

The two kinds of sporting most practised are the " flying hunt," and the " clapper 




euruim' 



A Russian Mare. 



hunt." The "flying hunt" (see page 60) is followed entirely on horseback, and with 
hounds. The hunters follow the noise of their canine guides, who find out the track 
of the game, and all that the dogs raise is shot. The "clapi^er hunt" requires the 
assistance of drivers, and is confined to wolves, bears, elks, and such auunals. It has 
its name from the clapping instruments of the drivers, with which they strike against 
the trees, to rouse the game. The Lettes and Esthonians, the skilful assistants of the 
noble hunters, raise a tumult with whistling, screaming, shouting, and clapping, which 
might drive a Diogenes from his tub, let alone the poor shy beasts of the forest. 

The rich land-owners sometimes invite all their neighbors, for twenty miles round, 

[01] 



to a great hunt. The field is then taken for eight successive days against the shy 
inhabitants of the forest, in sledges, droschkies, and coaches, or on horseback, accompa- 
nied by multitudes of peasants and dogs. The meals are taken under the shade of a lofty 
fir tree, from which a lynx has just been expelled, or m the den of a bear, which has 
just been overcome, or m the lair of a newly-shot elk. Sometimes a corps of miisi- 
cians accompanies the party, and cards and dice are seldom wanting. It might be 
imagined that Tacitus had made his remarks on the ancient tribes of Grermany, in 
these haunts of their unsophisticated descendants; except that, instead of savages clothed 
in bear-skins, these hunters are always well dressed, sometunes young and handsome, 
and generally well educated and intelligent. The assuming of the toga virilis was the 
great era in the life of a Roman youth. The fowling-piece is here an emblem of the 
same significance. The first elk shot by a nobleman's son is talked of half his life, 
and the last bear conquered by an old man before his death is long thought of with 
mournful pity by his friends. 

[G2] 




MOSCOW. 




THOSE who have first seen Moscow under 
a beautiful sunset, as we did, will not soon 
forget the sensations of that moment. It is 
certainly one of the most beautiful sights in 
the world. We do not recollect any city which 
makes so fine a show at a distance, and disap- 
points less when entered. Full eight miles away 
its countless towers and cupolas were gleaming bright in the sun, and each moment 

[C3] 



Jy%.B4fi 



brought new domes of blue, and gold, and white, into view. "We could scarcely 
persuade ourselves that we were not in Asia, — so truly Oriental is the aspect of this 
glittering city. 

The fair Moscow, in circuit not less than thirty miles, and sheltering eight hundred 
thousand inhabitants, according to the census of 1872, now lay, as it were, at our feet, 
— not in one thick mass of impenetrable buildings, but spread with exactly that degree 
of open and orderly confusion which taste prefers to straight lines and sharp angles — 
over a finely undulating hollow, embosomed among a circle of broken heights, some 




The Red Gate. 



fringed with wood, some green with cultivation, which at once give protection and 
beauty to the stately city. 

The original fovmders of Moscow settled, without doubt, on the Kremlin Hill, which 
natiu'ally became the centre of the city at a later period. Ifearest that fortified hill 
lay the Kitai Grorod (Chinese City), the oldest part of Moscow. Around both the 
Kremlin and Kitai Gorod lies Beloi Gorod (Wliite City), which is encircled by the 
Tver Boulevard, and the other boulevards, forming together one street. Eound Beloi 
Gorod runs, in a like cu-cular form, the Smelnoi Gorod, surrounded by the Garden 
Street, in wliich, among other buildings, is seen the beautiful Eed Gate, here given, a 

[64] 



jewel of the ancient capital of Rnssia, erected in honor of Peter the Gi'cat. These 
rings, forming the body of the city, properly so called, are intersected by the Tverskaya, 
Dimitnevka, and other streets radiating from the open places ronnd the Kremlin as the 
common centre. Nowhere is there a snfficient length of street to form a perspective. 
The greater number of the streets wind like the paths of an English park, or like I'iv- 
ers meandering through fields. We always fancy ourselves coming to the end; and in 
every part where the ground is level, we appear to be in a small city. Foi'tunately the 
site of Moscow is in general hilly. The streets undulate continually, and thus ofter, 





General Vie^^^ of the KremUn. 



from time to time, points of view whence the eye is able to range over the vast ocean 
of house-tops. 

The Kremlin is best vieAVed from the south side, and from the Bridge of Moskva 
Rekoi, here given. From the river that bathes its base, the hill of the Kremlin rises, 
picturesquely adorned with turf and shrubs. The buildings appear set in a rich frame 
of water, verdant foliage, and snowy wall, the majestic column of Ivan Wilikoi rearing 
itself high above all, like the axis round which the whole moves. Amidst the confusion 
of the numerous small, antique edifices, the Belshoi Dvorez (the large palace) has an 
imposuig aspect. It looks like a large mass of white rock amidst a multitude of frag- 

[C5] 



ments. The churches and palaces stand on the plateau of the Kremlin as on a mighty 
salver, the little red and gold Castle Church of the Czars coquetting near the border 
like some pretty little maiden, and the paler-colored cupolas of the Michaelis and Us- 
penski Churches representing the broad corpulence of a merchant's wife; the Maloi 
Dvorez (little palace) and the Convent of the Miracle draw modestly back, as beseems 
hermits and little people. All these buildings stand on the summit of the Kremlin like 
its crown, themselves again crowned with a multitude of cuj^olas, of which every church 
has at least five, and one has sixteen, glittering in gold and silver. The appearance of 
the whole is so picturesque and interesting, that a painter has only to make a faithful 




Krassnaya Square. 

copy, in order to produce a most attractive pictiu'e; but we never saw one that did not 
fall far short of the original, certainly one of the most striking city views in Europe. 
Moscow, with its labyrinth of courts, shrubberies, and gardens, and with streets that 
nowhere take the direct business-like course, has, throughout, the character of a subiirb 
or village. This is more particularly the case round Semlanoi Gorod. The houses 
do not stand in straight rows, nor are they all of similar height and dimension; one 
house will be large and magnificent, another small and paltry; one is i^ainted white, 
another green, a third yellow. One stands boldly forward, seeking notice; another 

[GG] 




1. Woman of Moscow. 

2. Girl of Moscow. 

3. Girl of Pskov- 

4. Woman of Pskov. 
5 6. Men of Novgorod. 
7,8. GirJs of Pskov. 

9. Woman of Tver. 
10. Woman of Torjok. 



TYPES. — GREAT RUSSIA. 



11. Woman of Kalouya. 

12, 13. Gentlemen of flioscow. 

14,15. Women of Smolensk. 

16. Woman of Trogobouge. 

17. Girl of Trogobouge. 

18. Girl of Viazma. 

19. Woman of Orel. 



20. Ghi of Orel. 

21. Young Man of Orel. 

22. Woman of Riazan. 

23. Girl of Itiazan. 

24. Girl of .Sar.itov. 

25. Woman of Saratov. 
2*. Man of Kolomnia. 



27. Woman of KoIoranJa. 
2S. Girlot Kutirsk. 

30. GhlM|- U'uv. 

31. Mail uf Ivuin-.sk. 

32. VdUHK Man uf Saratov. 

33. Woman of Saratov. 

34. Girl of Saratov. 



35. GirlofTouIa. 

36,37. Women of Toula. 

38,39. Workmen of Toula. 

40. Ghl of Oankov. 

41. Girl of Kiazan. 

42. t;iri of Kozlov. 
43,44. Jk-n uf Kuursk. 

45. Girl of Lgov. 



[C7] 



retreats within its little garden or stately court-yard, in which coaches-and-foxir are con- 
stantly circling. A city, in one sense of the word, — that is, an assemblage of human 
dwellings pressed closely together till they seem as if hewn out of one rock, — Moscow 
is not, excepting, perhaps, the square verst contained in the Kremlin and Kitai Gorod. 

The weakest part of Moscow is its rivers. The two chief rivers are the Moskva 
and the Yansa. The former Avinds so much that it remains, for nearly three miles, within 
the limits of the city. Both are extremely shallow. The Moskva is a meagre nymph, 
whose proportions become no fuller after she has swallowed up her sister, the Yansa, 
which, in summer, drags heavily along its slimy bed. Indirectly, however, these rivers 




St. Nicholas Chvirch and St. Nicholas Gate. 

yield the city its finest ornament, if we consider the trees in the moist green valleys, 
and the gardens on the hill-side, as their work. 

Krassnaya Square (see page 66), with the walls of the Kremlin to the right, the 
Gostinnoi dvor (bazaar) — the greatest standing warehouse of the empire — to the left, 
and on the soiith side the Yassili-Blagennoy Church, is the largest open square in 
Moscow. In the centre of the place is a monument erected in honor of Mminn and 
Tojarsky, two Muscovite patriots. Almost facing the Yassili-Blagennoy Church is seen 
the Spiassld Yorota, or " Redeemer's Gate," the most important of the five gates by which 

[08] 



the Kremlin is entered. Over it has hung, since the foundation of the city, a picture 
of the Savior, whicli is an ol)ject of the greatest reverence to every Russian, from the 
emperor to the lowest peasant in the country, and neither one noi- the other would dare 
to pass under it without removing his hat. The outriders of splencUd equipages, the 
prmces in the same, the bearer of despatches who rushes in on matters of life or death, 
all remove their hats and hold them in their hands until they pass through to the 
other side. Any one passing through and forgetting to uncover, is unmediately re- 
minded, nor would it he safe to neglect the warning. 

The St. Mcholas Gate (see page 68), although not so privileged as the Eedeem- 




The Bolshoi Devoreth (Large Palace). 

er's Gate, has also a wonder-working picture, that of St. Mcholas, over its entrance. 
It was neai- the entrance of this gate that, in 1812, ISTapoleon's powder-wagons exploded 
and destroyed a large part of the arsenal and other buildings. The gate escaped with 
a rent which split the tower in the middle as far as the frame of the picture, which 
stopped its farther progress. Not even the glass of the picture, or that of the lamp 
suspended below it, was injured. So says the inscription on the gate, and the remark- 
able rent is eternalized by a stone differing from the rest in color. 

All the gates of the Kremlin are connected by a strong and lofty Avail, surrounding 
it in the form of a vast triangle, with many towers. Within this wall are contained 

[69] 



all the most interesting and historically important buildings of Moscow ; the holiest 
churches, with the tombs of the ancient czars, patriarchs, and metropolitans; the remains 
of the ancient palace of the czars, the new ones of the present emperor, celebrated 
convents, the arsenal, senate house, &c., &c., and architectural memorials of every 
period of Russian history ; for every Russian monarch, from the remotest period down 
to the present emperor, has held it his duty to adorn the Kremlin with some monument. 

Moscow, by a kind of political fiction, is still considered as a capital, as well as 
St. Petersburg. In the Kremlin evei-ything is kept in constant readiness for the recep- 
tion of the emperor, as if it were his usual residence. In official documents, Moscow 
is always designated " Stolnitza " (Chief City) , and the inhabitants call it " N"asha 
Drevnaya Stolnitza " (an old capital) with evident satisfaction. If we consider the 
position of Moscow, in the very heart of Russia; how the stream of active and com- 
mercial life, rolhng hither from the Black, Caspian, White, and Baltic Seas, finds its 
natural centre on the fiiir hills of the Moskva ; how the whole acquires form and 
substance from this centre, and that the empire is in fact rather Moscovite than Rus- 
sian, it will he evident that Moscow seems destined by Nature, as well as by History, 
to be the capital of Russia, and must one day again become so. 

The Bolshoi Devoreth, or Large Palace (see page 69), was built, l^y Alexander 
I., on the site of the old Tartar Palace. It is very lofty compared to the length of 
the fa9ade, but the whole effect is good when viewed from the base upwards. The 
interior is not very magnificent. The walls are of brick; the windows of ordinary 
glass; the furniture is elegant, but not strikingly so; there is infinitely more splendor 
in the houses of many of the mighty emperor's subjects than here. The " Treasury," 
erected in 1851, forms the right wing of the palace, and is filled with relics of great 
value. 

The two most important remains of the old palaces of the czars are the Terem 
and the Granovitaya Palata (see page 71), the former containing the Gymnaceum, 
the latter the Coi'onation hall of the czars. They are by the side of the Large Palace, 
and connected with it by stairs and galleries. The Terem, formerly devoted to the 
czarevna and her children, is a large building four stories in height, each succeed- 
ing story being less in diameter than the one below it, thus forming a balcony on 
each floor, from which one may have a splendid view of the city. The two lower stories 
were built in the early part of the sixteenth century, and the two upper were added 
by Michael Feodorovitch, in 1636. The whole was restored, however, between the years 
1836 and 1819. In the first story were the throne and reception rooms. The Emperor 
Alexis and his sons were brought up in the Terem ; it was also sometunes inhabited 
by Peter the Great, whose unfortunate son Alexis was its last occupant. 

The Granovitaya Palata, or Banqueting-room, is a singular little building, hanging 
like a casket on the huge Bolshoi Devoreth. An inscription over the door states that it 

[70] 



was built by Jolm III., who married Sophia PahBoh:)gn,s, and restored by Nicholas T. 
On the second story it contains notliing- but tlic old Coronation Hall of the czars, 
and of the present emperor. The hall is low and vaulted, tlie arches uniting in the 
centre of the hall, where they rest upon a thick squai-e column. The throne is 
placed under a velvet canopy, opposite the entrance, and over the windows are the 
armorial bearings of the ditierent governments of Russia. The emperor sits enthi-oned 
here, after the ceremony of coronation in the cathedral, wearing for the first time the 
imperial insignia, and dines in the midst of his nobles; none but crowned heads, 




The Granovitaya Palata. 

however, can sit at the table with him. The imperial plate is now displayed around 
the room. 

The Palace and Gardens of Petrossky (see page 63) were founded by the Em- 
press Elizabeth ; they are at a short distance beyond the walls of the city. The 
Gardens are the great resort of the middle classes on summer evenings, and are filled 
with booths, restaurants, cafes, and tea-gardens, with a pretty little summer theatre. 
Whole families come from the city, bring their tea-urns with them, make their tea in 
the presence of thousands, and sit and drink, a tea-cnp m one hand and a piece of 
sugar in the other; they never put their sugar into the tea. The palace, which is 
small, has very little to recommend it, either liistorically or otherwise. It was here 

[-1] 



that Napoleon I., in sight of the bhazing city, dictated the intelhgence of the con- 
flagration to France. 

No country in the world has so few old churches as Russia, because formerly 
all were built of wood, and therefore fell mto decay, or became the prey of the 
flames. A few stone churches were built towards the latter end of the middle ages, 
and are still to be seen in Kieif, Moscow, and a few other cities. Although the most 
renowned and honored temples in Russia, they are excessively small and incredibly 
dark. The roofs rise in five paltry cupolas, which sit on them like the breasts on 
the statue of Diana at Ephesus. Every cupola is surmoiinted by a tall gold cross. 




resting on a crescent, and hung about with all sorts of chains, that fasten it to the 
cupola. Without, these cupolas are painted of the gaudiest colors the palette can 
afford, and are often gilded or sUvered into the bargain. From their interior a gigan- 
tic picture looks down, whose enormous ugliness is much better calculated to scare 
than to assist devotion. The centre cupola is supported by four pillars so immoder- 
ately thick that they diminish the space of the church very considerably. 

If there are few old churches in Russia, there is, at least, no scarcity of new 
ones. The essential part in the new style is naturally copied from the old, and reduces 
itself to a square form, with a large cupola m the centre, and four smaUer ones 
[72] 



at the sides. Tlio principal innovation is a lavish use of columns, generally the 
ornamented Corinthian, with an enlargement of space and an increased number of 
windows. In the new churches, the chains, with wdiich the cu])olas in the old ones are 
loaded, like filigree work, are left out; but otherwise all are alike be-cupolated, be- 




Vassili-Blagennoy (Church of the Protection of Mary). 

crossed, be-pillared in white, green, and gold, from the Black Sea to the Baltic, and 
thence to the Pacific Ocean. The cupolas and towers of these churches are mere orna- 
ments, and serve no other purpose, as our steeples do. The custom of placing clocks 

m them is wholly imknown in Russia. 

[73] 



The bells are not suspended in the cupola, but placed in a side building erected 
for the purpose, — the kolokolnik (bell-bearer) . These towers are hung as full of bells 
as a palm tree is full of cocoa-nuts, — small, middle-sized, and of colossal duuensions, 
tinkling, ringing, and bellowing. When such a kolokolnik sets at work on a holiday, 
and gives its lungs full play, or when, in a capital, twenty or thirty at a time begin 
their concert. Heaven have mercy on the ears that are not dead to every sense of 
harmony I It is a curious sight to see a Russian ringer begin liis work. He does 
not put the bells themselves in motion ; indeed, they have no clapper. To every bell a 
movable hammer is attached, and from the hammer strings are passed to the ringer. 
If he have only tAvo to ring he sits down and pulls on either side alternately. But 
when he has many, he holds some in his hands, fastens another to his back, and 
sets others in motion with his legs. The motions he is obliged to make have a 
most comical eiSfect; a former czar found the business so diverting that he used gen- 
erally to ring theni himself in the court church. 

Near the base of the tower of Ivan Veliki, or the Great John, which is about 
tlu'ee hundred and twenty-five feet in height, on a pedestal of granite, stands the 
monarch of all Ijells (see pages 72 and 78.) It was cast in 1730, during the reign 
of the Empress Anne. The tower in which it hung having been burned seven years 
later, it fell, and remained buried in the earth for one hundred years, when it was 
placed upon the present pedestal by order of the Emperor Is^icholas. It is almost 
impossible to give an idea of its immense size, and it must be seen to be appreci- 
ated. Its height is over twenty-one feet, and its circumference sixty-seven feet ; its 
weight is four hundred thousand pounds, and, at the present price of the material, 
it must be worth two million dollars. 

It is difficult to decide on the exact number of the churches in Moscow, the 
accounts given differ so widelj^ While some speak of " forty times forty," others 
reduce the number to five hundred. It is sufficient to say that the buildings in Mos- 
cow destined for divine service are countless. The most classic and holiest of all is 
within the inmost heart of the city, on the height of the Kremlin. This consecrated 
spot (see page 72), Sabornoi-Ploshtshad (Cathedral Place), contains the church of 
the czars' tombs ; the church with the tombs of the patriarchs ; the cathedral where 
the coronation takes place ; the church in the old Palace of the Czars ; the Great 
John, and the chapel of Mary of the Cave. It is hard to say which of these is 
the most important; perhaps the preference belongs to the Uspenski Sabor (the Ca- 
thedral of the ResuiTection), as the emperors are crowned in it, and the patriarch 
formerly officiated there. 

Ivan IV., " The Terrible," was certainly one of the most original monsters that 
ever walked the earth in the human form. In the Terem, in the highest room, 
which rears itself into the au* as an eagle's nest, where he passed liis youth, he 

[74] 



practised his hand by torturing animals. Of all the incredible deeds that arc related 
of this tyrant, the most extraordinary is his j^iitting out the eyes of the architect of 
"Vassili-Blagennoy, or Church of the Protection of Mary (see page 73), which he 
built in gratitude to God for the conquest of Kasan. The czar was delighted when 




The Chapel of the Iberian Mother of God. 



this pearl and crown of all churches was finished. He had the architect called before 
him, pronounced a warm panegyi-ic of the work, embraced him in thankfulness, and 
then ordered the man's eyes to be put out, that he might never build such another,, 



The church, with its twenty towers, large and small cupolas and roofs, forms one of 
the most singular objects in the world. Every one of the towers differs from the others 
in size and proportion, in shape and ornament. The Avhole is far from forming a whole; 
no main building is discoverable in this architectural maze; in every one of these hollow 
irregularities lurks a separate church, in every excrescence a chapel. One of the towers 
stands prominently amid the confusion, yet it is not in the centre, for there is, in fact, 
neither centre nor side, neither beginning nor end; it is all here and there. Imagine 
all these points and pinnacles surmounted by very profusely-carved crosses, fancifully 
wreathed with gilded chains; imagine, further, with how many various patterns of 




Convent of the New Jerusalem. 

arabesques every wall and passage are painted ; how from painted flower-pots, gigantic 
thistles, flowers, and shrubs spring forth, vary into vine-wreaths, wind and twist fur- 
ther, till they end in single lines and knots; imagine the now somewhat faded colors, 
red, blue, green, gold, silver, all fresh and gaudy, and you may m some degree com- 
prehend how these buildings must have delighted the eye of so original a tyrant as 
Ivan the Terrible. 

The Chapel of the Iverskaya Boshia Mater, or Iberian Mother of God (see page 
75), is situated near the Simday Gate, the most frequented entrance of Moscow, and 
was built by the Czar Alexis Michaelovitsh. Tliis Iverskaya Mater was born in Iberia, 



the modern Georgia. After passing her childhood in the deep valley of the Kur, 
she took shipping and followed the fleet of the Argonauts to Mount Afonsk (Athos), 
to which she took a great fancy. AVlio built the ship, or who steered it, whether 
it was Tamara, the Iberian queen, or any other royal personage, the Russian monks 
do not know, nor how long she remained in the cloister Avhich she founded on the 
mountain. Slie enjoys the greatest reputation not only in Russia, but throughout Orien- 
tal Christendom. 

The Church or Chapel of the "Iberian Mother" consists of one undivided area. 




A.SAR&l^'*^' 



The Devitshei Monastery. 



She herself, however, is in a Idnd of sanctuary hollowed out at the farther end. 
Like all the Russian saints, she has a dark-brown, almost black complexion. Round 
her head she has a net made of real pearls. On one shoulder a large jewel is 
fastened, shedding brightness around, as if a butterfly had settled there. Such another 
butterfly rests on her brow, above wliich glitters a brilliant crown. The doors of the 
chapel stand open the whole day, and all are admitted who are in sorrow and heavy-laden; 
and this includes here, as everywhere else, a considerable luunber. JS'one ever pass, 
however pressing their business, without bowing and crossing themselves. The greater 



part enter, kneel devoutly down before "The Mother," and pray with fervent sighs. 
Since Alexis, the czars have never failed to visit her frequently. The Emperor IS^icholas 
never omitted to do so, when in Moscow. It is said that he went to the chapel more 
than once in the middle of the night, and wakened the monks, in order that he might 
perform his devotions. 

The Convents of Moscow, about twenty in number, are sitiiated, some in the 
interior and oldest part of the city ; others — as, for instance, the Convent of the J^ew 
Jerusalem, represented on page 76 — in the meadows and gardens of the suburbs, 
with their walls embracing so many churches, buildings, gardens, and fields, and 
crowned with such munerous 'towers, that each looks like a little town. 

The Devitshei Monastery (see page 77) stands at the end of the Devitshei- 
Pole (Maiden's Field) , a large grass-grown waste, without Semlanoi Gorod. The 
Maiden's Feld is more interesting from its historical associations than its outward 
appearance. It is the field on which the Russian emperors entertain their subjects 
on the occasion of their coronation. In 1856, Alexander II. had the tables laid here 
for fifty thousand persons. On the walls that surround the monastery alone, there 
are sixteen towers ; the principal church has, as usual, five small ones ; others rise on 
all sides, belonging to the supplementary churches and cliapels, and a great tower 
for the l^ells is, of course, not wanting. This convent was founded by Eudonia, wife 
of Dimitry of the Don, in 1.393. She retired here, after the death of her husband, 
and from that time this nunneiy became the burial-place of the princesses of the 
reigning house. 

The Russian clergy are divided into the " wliite " and "black" clergy; the former 
are the secular, the latter the cloistered clergy. The appellations are derived from 
their respective dresses, the one party being clothed from head to foot in black, the 
other performing divine service in white rolies bordered with gold. The dress of the 
black clergy is throughout Russia the same, like the ruler under which they live. 
The head is covered with a tall, cylindrical black cap, round which flutters a long 
piece of black gauze, which hangs down behind like a lady's veil when thrown back. 
The principal garment is a long, full tunic, made generally of black velvet. The 
handsome curling beards, with which the monks are universally decorated, harmonize 
admirably with this dress ; they look like rich fur trimmings on the velvet robes. 
Their long hair, divided into three tails, one falling down the back and one over each 
shoulder, is not quite so ornamental. As the monks all wear black, the secular priests, 
almost without exception, choose brown for their ordinary dress; when they are offi- 
ciating as ministers of religion, it is, of course, different. They wear long brown 
coats, buttoned from top to bottom, and over them long, full, open tunics, with wide 
sleeves. The hair and beard are worn like those of the monks. On their heads 
they wear high brown or red velvet caps, trinnned with handsome fur, and carry 




Clergy of the Russian Chui'ch. 



excessively long brown sticks, studded with wrought silver knobs. Such is the ap- 
pearance of the Russian secular priest, as he marches with stately steps through the 
streets. 

The highest rank in the church, since Peter the Great abolished the Patriarchate, 
is that of Metropolitan, of wliich there are thi-ee, one for Moscow, one for Kielf, and 

[70] 



one for St. Petersburg. Of these, the Metropohtan of Kieff is first, and he of St. 
Petersbni'g the second in rank. After tlie Metropolitans come the Archiepiscopi, and 
Episcopi, also called Archipastuiri (archpastors) . The Archimandrites are superiors of 
convents, and rank next to the bishops. They are followed by the inferior clergy, 
that is, the Protopopes, or Protopresbiteri, the first popes of the principal churches, 
who are also the heads of several congregations; the Popes (sunple priests), the Archi- 
diakons, the Diakons (under priests), who may read the mass; and lastly, the Dia- 
tschoks, the most insignificant lights of the church, but nuist also have " studied," and 
who, though they perform only manual offices during the divine service, are com- 
petent to rise up the ladder of spu'itual promotion. 




Russian Sledges. 

The incomes of the Russian clergy are exceedingly small; the convents, with few 
exceptions, are very poor, since Peter the Great deprived them of their lands, and re- 
duced all monks and nuns to ridiculously small pensions of the state. Taken at the 
utmost, the income of a metropolitan never can amount to more than thirty or thirty- 
five thousand rubles a year ; and the bishops, all additional sources of revenue in- 
cluded, have seldom more than twelve thousand rubles a year. The poor nuns, when 
they offer their little works to travellers, often complain of their poverty, with mel- 
ancholy faces; they receive only twenty-five rubles yearly, and what more they want 
they must work for or beg. 

[80] 



Poor as the Russian clerg-y apjicar to hv with respect to revcmic, they are rich 
enough in titles, which are sometimes a yai'd or two long. If a j)crson enters the 
apartment of a metropohtan, and addresses him, the title luns so : " Yuissokopre- 
osswashtshennaishi Yladiko," or if he wrote to him, "■ Yewo Vuissokopreosswashtshenstvo 
Milostivaishu Gossudarin i Archipastuiru." The principal word may he translated, His 
most high holiness. The Avhole address is something like, His most high holiness, the 
most dear and gracious lord, the lord archpastor. All these titles are most rigidly 
observed in addressing a letter; in addressing them personally, a little less strictness 
is permitted. Yet these very persons who so load them with verbal honor, arc not 
thereby deterred froni sometimes laying aside all respect for the most high holiness 
in a very unceremonious manner. So long as he is engaged in the performance of 
his functions, the priest is treated with extreme reverence. N^ot only the laity kiss 
the hand of the chief priests after the service, but the inferior priests do the same 
when they receive the chalice, Bible, or anything else from them ; and withal, when 
the priests make state visits, the ladies kiss the hand of the meanest of them, on 
which account many carefully cherish a pretty hand, and decorate and perfume it when 
they pay these visits. These two occasions excej^ted, the priests enjoy no great per- 
sonal influence or consideration. A priest's advice is seldom asked in family matters; 
even the domestic chaplains in great houses are there to perform divine service only, 
and never penetrate into the interior of families, as the Catholic clergy do. The 
German, French, or English peasants know no better counsellor than their pastor; but 
the Rtissian peasant, in cases of difficulty, rather turns to his saint's pictures, and in- 
vokes the sacrament rather than the i^riest who comes with it. 

[81] 




Tzar Kolokol (The King of Bells). 




THE cit}' of Kazan is situated on the small 
River Ivazanka, about foiu" versts from where it falls 
into the A^olga, four hundred and thirty miles east 
of Moscow. It contains over thirty churches, nine eon- 
vents, and sixteen mosques, and is renowned for its 
numerous educational and literary institutions, includ- 
ing a university opened in ISIG, which has a special 
importance from the attention given in it to the study 



■'i' i^UK 



of living Asiatic langiuiges. 



Kazan is the great 



emporium of the commerce between Russia and Siberia. It has eighty thousand inhab- 
itants, about one fourth of whom are Mohammedan Tartars, Avho dwell in the suburbs. 
The Kazan Tartars are a more civilized people than their Russian masters. The 
Tartar who is imable to read and write is held in very little estimation by his 



countrymen, and hunee it is a leading- consideration with the fathers of families to send 
then* children to school at an early age, with a view to their being instructed in 
reading, writing, and the principles of religion. To promote these objects, every mosque 




Calmuck Tartars. 



has its proper school attached to it. Many of the Tartar merchants of Kazan are 
very rich, nearly the whole trade being in their hands. 

During our stay at Kazan, we had an opportunity of visiting a great horse 

[,s;i] 



market, held, not far fi-om the city, by the Calmuck Tartars. About five or six hun- 
dred of these people were assembled in a field, with a number of horses all running 
loose, except those on which the Tartars were mounted. The buyers came from 
various i)arts of Kussia. The Tartars had their tents pitched along the river side. 
These tents are of a conical figure : several long poles are erected, inclining to one 
another, wliich are fixed at the top into something like a hoop, that forms the cir- 
cumference of an aperture for letting out the smoke or admitting the Ught. They 
are covered with pieces of felt, made of coarse wool and hair, and are so contrived 
as to be set up, taken down, folded, and packed up with great ease and quickness, 
and are so light that a camel may cari-y five or six of them. 

These Tartars were strongly made and stout, their faces broad, nose flattish, and 
eyes small and black, Init very quick. Their dress consists of a loose coat of sheep- 
skui tied with a girdle ; a small round cap, turned up with fur ; leather or linen 
drawers, and boots. As they are almost always on horseback, they ai'c excellent riders. 
The dress of the women dififers little from that of the men; only their gowns are 
somewhat longer than the coats of the men, more ornamented, and bordered with party- 
colored cloth. The better sort dress in silk in summer. It must be observed, for 
the honor of the women, that they are very honest and sincere. Adultery is a crime 
scarcely ever heard of The Tartars make very good and faithful servants; and the 
more mildly they are used, the more faithfully they perform their duty; for their Avan- 
dering, unconfined manner of life naturally inspires them with sentiments of liberty, 
and an aversion and hatred of tyranny and oppression. 

Not far from Kazan, we crossed the Kama, which entei-s the Volga forty miles 
below that city. From there to Perm, a distance of two hundred and seventy miles, 
the country on the east side of the Kama is wild and dreary, interspersed with forests 
of fir, birch, and poplar, with nothing to interest except the Tartar villages scattered 
at intervals of five or six miles. It is, however, a grand sight to travel through those 
forests; the dark pine-points stand clear out against the sky, and, day after day, and 
night after night, seem hurrying away behind you in a never-ending train. The 
weather was cold and dreary; but this seemed in accordance with the road by which 
we were travelling: we were on the high road to Siberia; we had not seen the sun for 
two days, but at night the moon had sometimes shot out fitfully between the clouds, 
and shown the majesty of the darkness. Occasionally we were awakened by a deep- 
red glare, and flames leaping out, even above the tallest trees : were we far away 
at home among the iron districts of Pennsylvania, or were we coming to the "Lake 
and mouth of Avernus " ? The forest was on fire. Then the chill, gray morning drew 
on; and beneath the double row of birch trees, which seemed drooping to shelter 
them as they passed, was a long line of drab-clad figures, marching in the same direc- 
tion as ourselves. We instinctively knew what it was, but could still hardly believe 

[84] 



that a story so sad, so strange, so distant, was l)eing realized before our eyes. Xear 
the post-house whicli we Avere approaehing, there was a palisaded building; and there, 
coniforted by the oontril)utions of the sympathizing peasantry, they rested themselves 
for awhile from their weary mareh. Ten lliousand auiiually pass this way; and of 
them one fourth find their last resting-plaee in life before reaching their destination. 

The mines of Ifestchinsk, in Eastei'u Siberia, are four tlioiisand four hundred and 
seventy-two miles from Moscow; and thither the exiles condemned lo tlie most severe 
punishment are still sent. And although the rigor of the system there has been 




Convicts on their Way to Siberia. 



considerably mitigated, yet the eight hours' underground work in the silver mines is 
far from a light punishment. But it must not be supposed that all traverse that 
unmense distance, or that all are subjected to the same treatment. The severity of 
the punishment is proportioned to the heinousness of the ci-ime of which they are 
convicted. One of the most painful parts of the penalty which the exiles undergo is 
the march ; for it is performed entirely on foot, and frequently in most inclement 
weather. Stations where these wayfarers either eat or sleep are maintained at ais- 

[85] 



tances varying from fifteen to twenty versts; and here, besides the stcJii, or soup, pro- 
vided by government, the peasants of the neighborhood are in the habit of bringing 
their contributions for the comfort of the convoy. But in addition to the power of 
shortening or lengthening the march by one half, accoi-ding as the place of depor- 
tation is in Western or Eastern Siberia, the latitude may be varied through some 




Kirguis Tartars. 

twenty degrees, as far northward as forty-four degrees north. The southern pai-ts of 
the governments of Tobolsk and Tomsk are not ill adapted to agricultural pursuits; 
while part of the district of Semipolatinsk, south and east of Lake Balkash, has 
acquired the name of Siberian Italy. 

The face of the country is generally level till near the Siberian frontier, at the 

[86] 



base of the Ural Mountains, -which commence at tlic distance of one hundred and 
sixty versts from Perm. The ascent and descent of this mountain barrier are so 
nearly imperceptible, that were it not for the precipitous Ijanks everywhere to be seen, 
the traveller -would hardly suppose he had crossed a range of hills. On reaching' 







Tunguzes. 



the Asiatic side, the inhabitants of all the villages are found much more ci-vil, more 
hospitable, and more cleanly dressed. 

Tobolsk, the capital of Western Sil^eria, stands at the confluence of the Irtish and 
the Tobol. It is fortified -with a strong brick wall, having square towers and bas- 
tions, and is always well furnislied with military stores. A considerable trade with 
China is still carried on here; but Irkutsk has become, from the superior advantages 

[87] 



of its situation, a formidable rival. It has also lost much by the change of route, 
the caravans no longer iTsing it as a halting-place in their road to farther Siberia. 
The climate is severe, but in other respects it is by no means so uncomfortable a 




Tunguzian Dance. 



place of abode as, from the latitude and country in which it lies, would naturally 
be supposed. Provisions are cheap and abundant; and, what is remarkable, the society 
is good; at least, gay and polite. Shops, theatres, and other places of public amuse- 



ment, are numerous. 



[88] 



Three hundred miles south-east from Tobolsk is Omsk, at the junction of the Irtish 
and the Om. It was one of the strong places of tlu> Tartars, and there is always a 
strong garrison here. The country round is quite tiat, fertile, but not well cultivated. 
Opposite to the town is the territory of the Kirguis Tartars (see page 84), with whom 
the inhabitants carry on a considerable trade in bartering tobacco, spii-its, &c., for cattle. 
The Kirguis, though in some degree tributary to Kussia, have their own khans. They 
are divided into three hordes, who wander over the country between Omsk and the 
Caspian Sea. Their appearance is handsome and manly ; a long robe of blue cloth, 
beautifully embroidered, and fastened round the waist by a highly-polished silver belt, 
from which is suspended a dagger, a knife, a pipe, and what in Europe might be termed 
a tinder-box; a shirt of colored cotton, large trousers, and boots to correspond. 

A country for the most part wild and uncultivated extends nearly the whole way 
from Omsk to Irkutsk, the capital of Eastern Siberia. Irloitsk stands in a plain, on 
the right bank of the Angara, about thirty-five miles from its source in Lake Baikal. 
It is well built, paved and lighted, and has about thirty thousand inhabitants. The 
Baikal Lake is five himdred and eighty-five versts in length, and about one hun- 
dred in width, extending from about the fifty-first to the fifty-fifth parallel of north 
latitude. The water is fresh and transparent, but of a green or sea tinge. It is 
iisually frozen from the latter end of December, and not free from ice till May. In 
the summer this sea is crossed Avith some difficiilty and danger, in consequence of 
the sudden changes of the wind. In winter, sledges drawn by horses are employed. 
There is, however, some danger even in this mode, not only from the ice giving 
way at points that are imperfectly frozen, but also from the gusts of wind, which 
sweep with irresistible violence along its surface. 

In pursuing our route to Kamtchatka we did not cross the Baikal, but proceeded 
down the River Lena, till we reached Jerbat, where we passed the line which divides 
the Tunguzes from the Yakuti. The Tunguzes are nearly all nomads; their features 
are regular and pleasing. Their gay and poetical disposition is shown in the grace 
and agreeableness of their outward appearance, that we could not help feeling and 
admiring more and more every day that we travelled Avith them on the snow. They 
take much pains to enhance their natural beauty by the aid of art, and they adorn 
in the most careful manner all parts of their dress. The upper garment of the men 
is open in front, and has broad tails, which, in riding, hang down the sides of the 
reindeer. It is made of reindeer skin. The leather side, which is turned out, is 
dyed yellow, and the tails are richly embroidered with blue and red threads and 
beads. Still more striking are the pretty wristbands or mittens, of the finest leather, 
which are fastened below the sleeves of this coat. Some wear, by day, a veil of 
colored silk, whicli is sewed to the lower edge of their snow-shades, and reaches 
down to the chin. It protects from the injurious effects of the snow-light, for this 

[89] 



reddens and swells the face to a much gi-eatcr degree than the direct rays of the 
sun in summer. 

In consequence of the river being frozen over, we had to perform the last part 





Siberian of the Yakutsk Province. 



of our journey to Yakutsk by land. This town is situated on the west bank of the 
Lena, in a very bleak situation. It is a considerable place for the fur trade. 

From Yakutsk we proceeded to Okhotsk, a seaport of two thousand inhabit- 

[90] 



ants, and the capital of a i)r()\iiK-e of the same name, which is situated in the north- 
east ijart of the sea of the same name, in hititiide oO" 20' 10" north., lono-itude 
143° 13' 45" E. No cultivation can of course be expected in a climate wherein scarcely 
a blade of grass is to be seen. The inhabitants manage, notwithstanding, with great 
labor, to feed a couple of cows; though, to tlo tliis, thev are obliged to brino- the 
hay eighty miles. The occupation of people in that pail ol' tlie M^orld naturally de- 
pends tipou the season. Laying in wood for fuel, hunting and trading, are the 
winter occupations; while fishing and fowling are almost the exclusive employment in 
spring and autumn : summer is generally the building-time. The women embroider 
gloves, caps, boots, shoes, and various things, in a neat manner. 

An old OMiotshian told us many particulars respectmg the present manners and 
customs of his people. "Here, in the neighborhood of the Russians, every one can- 
tents himself Avith one wife; but among the families of the northern tracts polygamy 
is as prevalent as ever. The old custom is kept up in regard to what is called the 
koluim, or the sum for which every man buys his wife. This is usually a number 
of cattle, to the value of two or three hundred rubles; but as the family of the man 
are not always in a condition to pay the stipulated amottnt at once, it is customary 
to affiance the boys already in their twelfth year. The betrothed girls may be visited 
in their parents' yurts, by their intended husbands, but cannot be taken home by the 
latter till the payment of the koluim is completed. The sum thus paid goes wholly 
to the fathei- of the bride, who carries only a few presents with her to her new 
home. Match-makers, male and female, — the svati and svakhin of the Ritssians, — are 
indispensable as witnesses in settling the price of the bride." 

We remarked in Okhotsh an old exile, who had his nostrils slit up. This mode 
of marking those who haA^e been punished with the knout is said to be now out 
of use, and, in truth, with the exception of the man just mentioned, we have seen 
it only in the ease of some Russians at the southern point of Kamtchatka, whither 
no convicts have been sent for a long time. The mark is a cruciform incision about 
a line wide, made at the lower edge of the nostril ; and it appeared to us always 
to give the pi'ofile of the face a revolting, crafty look. The same class of oftenders 
have also the word vor — that is to say, "thief" — branded on the forehead; the o 
being in the middle and the other two letters on the temples. These marks were not 
visible on the individuals whom we saw, becattse, perhaps, they had completely healed 
up, or were covered with the hair; but we believe that the nicloiame vornal; which is 
given at times to the convicts in Siberia, is derived from vo7' and snak, a mark; and is, 
consequently, a memorial of the more ancient and cruel criminal justice. 

From Okhotsh we crossed the sea to St. Peter and St. Paul's, in Kamtchatka. 
This peninsula, which is of an elliptical figure, forming the south-eastern extremity 
of Siberia, extends from the latitude of 51° to 59° north, and from 155° to 165° east 

[91] 



longitude. It is bounded, on the west by the Sea of Okhotsh, on the east and south 
by the Pacific Ocean, on the north by the country of the Koriaks. A chain of moun- 
tains, with numerous volcanic peaks, traverses its whole length from north to south. The 
only navigable river is the Kamtchatka, which, after a long course towards the north 




Kamtchatdale. 

and north-east, falls into the Eastern Ocean, in latitude 56° 30" north. It admits vessels 
of one hundred tons one hundred and fifty miles up. All the rivers abound in fish. 
There are, also, numerous lakes; so that, except when these are frozen, there is no 
intercourse between the several parts of the peninsula. It abounds in timber fit for 
ship-biiilding; but corn and vegetables seldom come to perfection, in consequence of the 



severity of the climate. The winter is long and severe; in spring and antumn there are 
heavy rains; the greatest heat is in July. The inhabitants depend for subsistence on fish, 
wild animals, and wild game, all of which are in great abundance; they likewise mix 
the bark of trees with wild or uncultivated vegetables. The natives are supposed to 
be a ditferent race from the other inhabitants of Siberia; they are short, broad, with 
slender arms and legs, black liaii', and round face. The whole population is supposed 
to not exceed ten thousand. The number of real Kamtchatdales who retain their 
ancient usages is very small: they reside on the northern coast. The rest of the 
inhabitants are established in villages, built in the old Russian style. Formerly, the 
Kamtchatdales received their principal articles of commerce from the Japanese ; but 
from the beginning of this century, the Russians have supplied them with coarse 




Nikolayevsk on the Amoor. 

cloth, knives, tobacco, sugar, iron, &c., in exchange for furs and skins. Kamtchatka 
is said to have been first discovered by a Cossack, in 1696 ; it was finally subdued 
by the Russians in 1711, but did not attract attention as a commercial station till 
subsequently to the discovery of the Aleutian, Beering, and Fox Islands. 

At Okhotsh, circumstances had occurred which determined us to return to Mos- 
cow, which we did by ascending the Amoor and the Shilka. up to Nertchinsk, from 
whence we proceeded to Kiatchta, Selenginsk, and Irkutsk. 

About the middle of the seventeenth century, the Russians had advanced as far 
as the River Amoor; hei-e they subdued some Tunguzian chiefs, and began to erect 
fortresses. The Chinese having entertained similar designs, it became necessary to 

[93] 



form some amicable arrangement, not, however, before hostilities had actively begun. 
By the treaty the Russians not only lost an extensive territory, but also the naviga- 
tion of the Amoor. In 1854, however, the Russians, resuming their plans of con- 
quest, sent a large military force into the country of the Amoor, and established the 
Russian rule upon a lasting basis. A ukase of 1856 proclaimed the union of the lower 
part of the Amoor country with Kamtchatka, and made Nikolayevsk the seat of 
government. By the treaty of Aigoon, 1858, the whole country of the Amoor was 
ceded by China to Russia, and the Amoor itself became a Russian river. 

" At Malaya, Narymka, in our way to Irkutsk, we crossed the Russian frontier, 
for the sake of gratifying ourselves by a harmless incursion on the Celestial Empire. 
An officer and a few men at the station were all that were left to mark the 
boundaries of the two empires. We forded the little stream which forms the actual 
limit, and, seating ourselves on a stone on the left bank, were soon lost in reverie. 
It was about midnight: the moon, apparently full, was near her meridian, and seemed 
to encourage a pensive inclination. What can surpass that scene we know not ; 
some of the loftiest granite mountains, spreading in various directions, enclosing some 
of the most luxurious valleys in the world ; yet all deserted! all this fan- and fertile 
tract abandoned to wild beasts, merely to constitute a neutral territory ! The first 
Chinese settlement is eighty miles from Malaya. 
[94] 




TRANSYLVANIA 



AND 



THE TURKISH PRINCIPALITIES. 



TRANSYLVANIA AND THE TURKISH PRINCIPALITIES. 




oX«o 



f?j T GIURGEVO, where we leave the Danube, there is no attrac- 
tion to detain the traveller, and refusing the offered caleche and 
post-horses of the innkeeper, we modestly seated ourselves on 
the fresh straw in the bottom of the very rustic vehicle wherein 
we were to make our journey to Bucharest. To describe this 
j^^^/^^P^'*"^ '** hirdj briefly, it is a great four-wheeled, springless wagon, with 
.^^M/.'^ ^ leather top and a rack behind filled with hay for the horses. 

The luggage is placed inside, and the traveller accommodates himself upon 
it as best he may, climbing in and out through windows in the leather top. 
The road we take is very broad, regularly laid out, and lately mended, it 
appears, with loads of small stones. The telegraph poles which follow it 
mark it out clearly enough, but of all the vehicles which pass, not one will 
go over the new, rough road. They deviate to right or left upon the bare 
ground of the steppe, tracing roads for themselves, which soon become 
impassable from having been used too much, while the real highway remains 
impassable for lack of use. As we go on we meet, from time to time, long 
files of transport wagons going to the Danube. They have come all the 
way from Leipsic, laden with merchandise destined for Turkey and the shores of the 
Black Sea. Very large, and covered with canvas or woven rushes, these wagons 
have a most wild and primitive air ; their wheels are extremely solid, and they are 
so heavily loaded that their timbers creak like those of a vessel straining hard in 
a heavy sea. A little space in front is left clear for the driver, who is some- 
times accompanied by his whole family ; and the cooking-utensils hung up around 
suggest an emigrant train. The team consists of ten or a dozen horses, harnessed 
three or four abreast with long traces of rope. They are small, wiry animals, their 
heads half hidden by masses of shaggy hair. 

Towards noon we stopped for dinner at an attractive-looking inn, at the foot of 
a steep hill, and found ourselves in the midst of a gay gathering of villagers. 
Along the outside of the building extended a very broad veranda, the roof decorated 
with freshly cut branches of trees, ditfusing with their refreshing shade a delicious 

[96] 



odor of the woods. Under this shade were collected a dozen i-ustic groups, — young 
men and gu-ls, waitmg for the dance to begin ; — for it chanced to be a holiday, as 
we were soon informed ; mothers with handsome babies in their arms; old peasants 
sunburnt to the eyebrows under their round sheepskin caps, smoking, as imperturba])le 
as Turks ; Transylvanian teamsters with broad-brimmed hats, Avatching their wagons 
left out in the road, and their 
panting horses, which under the 
blazing noonday sun had drawn 
near together as if mutually to 
fiirnish each other a little shade, 
and bending their meagre necks 
hid their lowered heads, making 
grotesque groups that seemed to 
consist of nothing but an infinite 
number of slender legs entangled 
lonf 



among long ropes. 

IvTear us, on the left, a limpid 
brook glided silently by under the 
willows. In a meadow beyond, 
five or six tents had been pitched, 
and a groiip of gypsy children, 
from three to twelve years old, 
were paddling in the water, utter- 
ing cries like startled ducks. 

We had now the opportunity 
to study, in all its graceful sim- 
plicity, the Wallachian costume, as 
it has been handed down from 
parent to child for hundreds of 
years. 

The young men have a kindly 
and gentle air; they are not tall, 
and are of slender rather than robust figure. To the illustration we only need add that 
the frock and trousers are of white linen, the short jacket of black cloth embroidered 
with gold thread and bright-colored silks, and the cap of black lambskin, — to give a 
perfectly accurate idea of the man's costume. For the girl's dress, we must supply nearly 
similar coloring, — the full waist and underskirt white, the jacket black, embroidered 
with high colors, the scarf fastened around the waist bright scarlet, and the outer 
skirt and apron some rich dark-sti'iped material, woven, we were told, by their own 

[97] 




^5 -..., i'CSUT ^:S- 

Wallachian Peasant. 



hands. The married women cover the head with hght hnen drapery, which makes 
a pleasing setting for the face, and falls in a point at the back of the neck. Young 

girls wear no head-gear save clusters of 
flowers, drooping just behind the ears ; 
their faces are extremely animated and ex- 
pressive, and seem to indicate more char- 
actei' than do those of the young men. 

Dancing was just about to begin, as 
our driver came to announce to us that 
the wagon was i-eady for departure. Two 
gypsy musicians, whose approach was her- 
alded by a piercing ritournelle, had made 
their solemn entry, followed by a crowd 
of children. One was performing on a kind 
of bagpipe, the other twanged the copper 
strings of a mandoline. The lattei- was 
clad in a long robe like a fakir's, and coifed 
with an almost imperceptible skull-cap ; he 
looked like a meditative old bonze, with 
his impassive face and half-closed eyes. 
The former, less majestic, wore the dress of 
a Roumanian peasant; but he too had that 
mysterious expression which is one of the 
traits of their race. Whatever he is doing 
or saying, the gypsy never loses his dreamy, 
thoughtful look. 

The two musicians took up their posi- 
tion at one end of a gallery adjoining the 
front of the inn, and the dance began. At 
nearly the same moment, our reluctant driver, casting many a longing, lingering look 
behind, flogged his three horses into a brisk gallop, and we were whirled away in 
a cloud of dust. 

The afternoon passed with alternations of village, forest, and open country; and 
it was already near sunset when we approached Bucharest. At a considerable dis- 
tance from the city, numerous pointed towers, and many little white and red belfries, 
with domes of copper or tin, appear clearly cut above the purple haze which hides 
the mass of buildings from our sight. As we draw nearer, it would seem that 
churches and houses are scattered, without order, up and down an immense and luxuri- 
ant garden. But one must not trust to the graceful visions of Oriental architecture 




Wallaehian Girl. 



evoked by this distant view. En- 
tering the suburbs, we are disagree- 
ably surpi-ised by the degradation, 
the disorder, and general wretched- 
ness of the streets. The pavement 
of the principal street is so broken 
and irregular, and worn into ruts 
so deep, that it was with the utmost 
difficulty we could brace ourselves 
to avoid fearful concussions. After 
an hour of this severe exercise in 
gymnastics, we reached the hotel. 
Night had arrived before us, and it 
must be owned that, in the lighting 
of its streets, the Roumanian cap- 
ital leaves as much to be desired 
as it does in their paving. 

The city of Bucharest is sit- 
uated in an extensive plain, trav- 
ersed by the river Dimbovitza. 
Its ill-defined limits, at least fif- 
teen miles in circumference, con- 
tain more than a hundred thousand 
inhabitants, of which five or six 
thousand are foreigners of various 
European nations, five thousand 
are Jews, and nine thousand are 
Zigani. 

The city is as difficult to de- 
scribe as it is to visit. In the 
centre is the commercial quarter, 
consisting of four principal streets, 
remarkable for their handsome 
shops, their frescoed cafes, and 
their bazaars supplied with foreign 
wares of every description, — Eng- 
lish hats and garments, German 
furniture of pretentious patterns, 
saddlery and carriages from Vienna, arms from every country in Europe, fashions, 

[99] 




and dress-goods, and even books, from Paris. In this portion of the town we observe 
also the theatre and the prince's palace, neither of them buildings of any architec- 
tural merit. 

The rest of the city is nothing more than a collection of hamlets scattered along 
four wide streets, which lead out from the commercial quarter, and arc prolonged 
into roads towards the four cardinal points. The eye is shocked by the miserable 
hovels of the poorer classes, — the wretched, tortuous lanes, the absolute lack of all 
that makes life endiarable, — contrasted with the extreme elegance and luxury of the 
houses of the aristocracy. This contrast, however, does but make visible to the eye 
the moral status of the population. The aspect of Bucharest is perfectly suited to 
express the condition of the country, awakened to ideas of liberty and reform; emu- 
lous of the civilization of Western Europe, yet struggling at every step with the 




Fountain near the Monastery of Argis. 

demoralizing influence of the Tui'kish and the Russian pi'inciples, which have so long 
been its rules of action. It cannot be doubted that both the nation and the capital 
will eventually be brought into harmony with modern ideas; the atmosj^here of the 
century pervades even this land, and there is a popular party ever on the alert for 
reform. 

Meantime, a few wide streets are laid out, a few public squares opened, and a 
few large buildings erected; and, it must be owned, the city is far more proud of 
these things than ashamed of its lack of the absolute necessaries of life. We may hope, 
however, that the time will soon come when chui'ches and palaces, boulevards and 
public gardens, shall here become so numerous that there will be leisure to add those 
more accurate tokens of ameliorated manners, — pavements and gas-lamps, fountains and 

the sweeping of the streets. 
[100] 




if) 

o 

< 



X 
o 
cd 
D 
X 
o 



The most frequented public garden makes a fine display of rare shrubs, extensive 
lawns dotted with clumps of shade-trees, and a pretty winding brook of pellucid water. 
Hither the people of the city resort every evening, yet rather to see and to be seen than 
to enjoy the park; it is the fashion to promenade incessantly in a Inroad avenue where 
the dust blows in clouds. Their style of dress is almost invariably French; a few, so 
infrequent that they may be counted, still cling to the old national costume, which has 
been, as a rule, abandoned to the peasanti'y. One must admit that this preference for 
French fashions is, with most, the index of a praiseworthy sentiment. In contrast to 
the Hungarian people, who pi-eserve to the utmost all the traditions of their free and 
glorious past, the Wallachians seem eager to forget all that recalls the odious days of 
their thi-aldom. If we must regret the ancient dress for the sake of its picturesque 
grace, we still cannot blame the people who abandon it with the joy of a liberated 
slave, free at last to rid himself of the livery of his servitude. 

The numerous churches in Bucharest are, for the most part, hidden in obscure cor- 




View of Argis. 

ners, difficult of access, to which the stranger only by chance will find his way. Their 
architecture, an offshoot of the Byzantine style, is singular, and often very jjleasing. 
Everywhere we remark a curious elaboration of ornament where carving and painting 
unite in producing effects of the most novel originality. Unfortunately the older and 
more characteristic of these structures, those which national feeling should have been 
most solicitous to preserve, are in a state of deplorable neglect and dilapidation. Eyery 
building of importance recently erected is in the German Gothic style, — a style which, 
whatever may be its merits, is certainly out of place in the Roumanian capital. 

The Church of St. Spii-idion is a curious instance of bad taste. A false notion of 
architectural embellishment has heaped upon an original foundation rather in the Byzan- 
tine style, all the decorations of the Gothic, without perceiving that in carrying up the 
octagon towers to a disproportionate height, in order to cover them, from base to sum- 
mit, with all known forms of Gothic ornament, one is guilty of something more than 
[102] 







^^^z§^i/£JrZ-£ 



YOUNG WALLACHIAN WOMAN. 



folly — of heresy. The towers have become minarets ; the church is like a mosque. 
A Turk would feel at home in it. 

Prom the time of the Ottoman occupation there remains in Bucharest no building 
of note save the old Tchan of Manuk-Bey, now a rendezvous for Transylvanian team- 
sters, German peddlers, small traders of Bulgarian, Greek, or Turkish nationality, and 
rogues of every description. The influence of Turkish ideas appears, however, in the 
plan of many of the dwelling-houses, which have an air of seclusion and mystery about 
them quite attractive to the eye. 

However, the day came when we had seen enough of Bucharest; and we gladly 
accepted a j^roposal, made us by Prince Brancovano, to whom we had brought letters 
of introduction, to pay a visit to the old city of Argis, once the capital of Wallachia, 
and still, for the sake of its monastery and church, regarded with veneration as a 
religious centre. 




View from the Monastery of Polvoradj. 

We set off" on our expedition in a light open carriage, drawn by eight horses, and 
taking a road which led towards the west, followed it for some hours till we reached 
the river Argis, then turned northward along the river, arriving at the place of our 
destination on the evening of the second day. A few words may be bestowed upon 
oui- manner of locomotion, which was really extraordinary. The horses are harnessed 
in couples, each pair at a good distance from the next: there are two postilions, 
one at the head of the team, the other in the middle; and, once in the saddle, they 
seem to have no other idea than to get over the ground at the greatest possible 
speed. The road may be good, or it may be bad, the postilion cares nothing for 
that ; with heel, and whip, and voice, he urges his horses forward, and nothing less 
than an uninterrupted gallop satisfies him. 

Our route through the valley afibrded many pleasing pictures of rural life. It 
is a fertile region and extremely well cultivated; the wide plain through which the 
river flows was yellow with rijiemng grain, while the cornfields on the remote hill- 

[104] 




CASCADES OF THE RISTINGA. 



sides were in the most luxuriant perfection. This wealth of vegetation gives all the 
poor hamlets through which we pass a cheerful and holiday air. The houses stand 
remote from the road; wide fields of thick grass surround them, interspersed with 
willows and oaks whose aged trunks are wreathed with ivy, and plum-ti-ees whence 
hang waving garlands of some kind of giant convolvulus. 

To reach the Monaster}'^ of Argis we pass through the village, — a long row of 
wooden farm-houses, lying on either side the road ; from a distance, the four tin- 
roofed domes of the church are the central point of a picture, framed by the severe 
and angular outlines of the first escarpments of the Carpathian range, which shut the 
valley in on all sides. Arriving at the Monastery, we enter through a postern gate, 




Grotto of Polvoradj. 

beneath a lofty tower pierced with loopholes like a mediaeval donjon. We find oui'- 
selves in a courtyard containing stables and carriage-houses, whence we pass into an 
inner court, formed by the four buildings composing the monastery, the church itself 
standing in the centre. Here we were received with truly Oriental hospitality by the 
venerable bishop, who was sitting, as we entered the courtyard, in a wide balcony 
overhung with light lattice-Avork, three or four long-bearded, long-haired monks, clad 
in black, standing respectfully near him. We were consigned to the care of one 
of them. Father Athanasius, who showed us the most friendly attention during our 
stay, and recounted to us with much detail the history of the religious foundation 
of which he was a member. 
[106 J 



The story of the WaUachian principality begins, it seems, at Argis, which was 
its fii-st religious and political capital, founded by Black Rodolph in 1241. This 
prince, driven out of Transylvania by a Tartar invasion, came into Wallachia with 
a great band of emigrants, formed alliance with the nomad tribes already on the 
gromid, and estabUshed himself as the first Duke of Roumania. Both himself and 
his immediate successors were vciy favorable to the church, and bestowed many politi- 
cal rights and nuich wealth upon the clergy. It was, however, not until 1518, in the 
time of ]S"agu I., that the white marble church was erected, — this strange woi-k of 
art which has been the attraction of our present journey. 

The building, in its plan, with its square towers, its solidity of structure, and 
its simplicity of outline, is the exact reproduction of a Byzantine shrine. It appears 
that the architect must have taken for a model one of those beautiful specimens of 
goldsmiths' work, and reproduced all its capricious nicety of detail and grotesque 
difficulties of execution ; as, for example, the narrow apertures twisted in spirals, of 
the two smaller towers. In its ornamentation there is something su"-o-estive of the 
Saracenic architecture, both in the heavy cornices, and in the geometric character of 
the decorative lines. 

Concerning the ornamentation, the monks tell a marvellous story, which may, 
however, be quite true. It is said that the same arrangement of lines is nowhere 
repeated, and that the diflferent combinations are three hundred and sixty-five in 
number. 

The most mysterious circumstance about this building is, that its architect evi- 
dently has borrowed no aid from foreign sources; and yet it is hard to explain the 
existence of a school of architecture so advanced, in a country where all other arts 
and sciences were, so to speak, unknown. The construction is, indeed, patient and 
careful, rather than skilful. The nave and the choii-, a massive cross, sustain by 
the mere thickness of their walls the whole weight of towers and cupolas designed 
with the utmost simjilicity. 

Within, the walls are covered with paintings on gold backgrounds. Apocalyptic 
subjects and the figures of saints are handled in that Byzantine manner which makes 
less account of the life-like appearance than of richness of costume and splendor of 
accessories. The portrait of IsTagu, the founder, of gigantic proportions, and taller by 
a head than any of the saints, as befits so zealous a builder of monasteries, occu- 
pies the place of honor: he is clad in a rich Hungarian costume, embroidered with 
gold and pearls, and bears on his forehead a crown sparkling with precious stones. 
The only truthful detail in the whole picture may be, perhaps, the long, blonde hair, 
which falls over the shoulders. 

The clioir is separated from the nave and closed in by the catapetazma, the 
"veil of the sanctuary," a screen carved in open work, and painted in brilliant colors, 

[107J 



with the addition of much gilding. Figures of the Virgin and the Christ, with gold 
backgrounds, also adorn it. This screen opens by three doors, the centre one used by 
the priest, the other two by the acolytes. From the centre of the domes hang chan- 
deliers of gilded copper, whose countless lights are reflected from shrines and reliqna- 
ries in choir and nave, and from the holy pictures with painted hands and faces, and 
garments of wrought gold and gems. The light of day scarcely penetrates into the 
building through the narrow apertures in the domes, and through a few loopholes in 
the lateral walls. 

Around the church are grouped the monastery buildings, the comfortless cells of 
the monks, the refectories and guest-chambers, which testify to an hospitality the most 
generous; just opposite is a modern chapel, covered with frightful frescos more gro- 
tesque than mystical; and at the foot of the church-steps is an elegant little building, 
which contains suspended beneath its vaulted roof the bar of beaten iron on which 
are struck with a hanuner the hours of service. 

Outside of the monastery grounds there is also a little structure, quite ancient 
and a good deal dilapidated, from the base of which springs through three small aper- 
tures a fresh and limpid stream of water. A legend of the building of the church 
tells us how Maniol, the master-builder, having walled his wife up in the foundation, 
fell from the roof as a punishment for his crime, when the splendid edifice stood in 
its finished glory, and that in the place where he fell now springs a fountain — "a 
fountain of clear water, bitter and salt watei-, mingled with tears, with bitter tears." 
Is tliis, we queried, the fountain of the legend, — " the fountain of salt water mingled 
with bitter tears " ? We drank, and found it sweet. The women fill their water- 
jars at it, and ducks splash in the little brook which flows from it, and runs, with 
murmur that is gay, not sad, down to the river. 

The principality of Wallachia is separated from Transylvania, as the reader will 
remember, by the Carpathian Mountains, or Transylvanian Alps, and from these moun- 
tains run out innumerable spurs, rendering all the northern half of Wallachia a mountain 
country, wild and picturesque in an eminent degree. 

At Argis we found ourselves on the edge of this region, and decided to explore 
it, keeping a generally westward course, and proposing to strike the Danube again 
in the neighborhood of the Iron Gate, on the edge of Transylvania. A further in- 
ducement was offered by the fact that our halting-places from night to night would 
be at certain Roumanian monasteries, some of tliem very ancient and interesting, and 
all of them hospitable towards any stranger, and sure to be specially friendly 
to ourselves, as introduced by letters from Prince Brancovano. 

Accordingly, leaving Argis, we crossed the river, followed a road up the valley 
for half an hour, then turned towards the northwest, leaving the river at our right. 
From the top of the first hill we looked back to catch a farewell glimpse of the 

[108] 



monastery, lying, sheltered and tranquil, in its green nest for below; a few steps 
further, and Nature unveiled to us her wildest aspect. The foot-liills <»f the Car- 
pathian range resemble a confused heap of giant pyramids, slightly rounded on the 
angles and at the summit, and rising one behind another, each higher than the last. 
With infinite toil and pains you climb by circuitous I'oads half-way up one, only to 
find yourself at the base of another. At last we i-eached the summit of the ridge, 
and having crossed it, descended by moderate slopes to a little village, where we 
sought to obtain fresh horses. Our chagrin may l^e imagined to leai'n tliat the road 
we were proposing to take was impracticable, or, to speak more correctly, that it 
did not exist! Should we pei'sist in going in that direction, it was doubtful whether 
our carriage would arrive in safety, and absolutely certain that no horses could drag 
it up the steep ascents we should be obliged to cross. Only oxen could accomplish 
this tedious and very wearisome work. I^o alternative existed; we accepted the oxen, 
and in the morning resumed our route, with our team of six patient beasts, in charge 
of three peasants, each with his axe slung over his shoulder. 

Space fails us to recount the day's adventures. It is but fair to add, that, well 
equipped as we had thought ourselves, we had need of much extra assistance both 
of men and oxen, before we reached the Monastery of Cosia, on the river Olto, oiu* 
resting-place for the night. 

. This religious house, one of the most ancient in Wallachia, is much fallen into 
decay; its buildings are irregular, its church small, sombre, and crumbling like the 
rest. The Superior who received us bade xis welcome with a melancholy and pen- 
itential tone which belied his words. In congratulating himself upon our arrival, he 
had the air of pitying us for having come. Especially did he apologize for the neg- 
ligence of his attire; and, truth to tell, never had we encountered dignitary so oddly, 
so wretchedly apparelled. 

The next day we were guided in our expeditions about the neighborhood by a 
young brother, who was, we were informed, much versed in Roman traditions; and, 
first of all, he directed our attention to Trajan's Rock, on the opposite shore of the 
Olto. 

"i« pjV^m lui Trdiane,'' as it is called in the Roumanian language, is an 
enormous mass of stone, standing across the river, and obstructing it in at least 
one third of its breadth. It seems to be an outlying portion of an innneuse rocky 
wall, rising to a perpendicular height of five hundred feet, whose summit forms 
many irregular platforms, on one of which Trajan is beheved to have erected a tower. 
The great rock in the river was separated from the mass to give passage to the 
Roman road, whose extensive levels and pentagonal paving-stones can be distinctly 
seen at many points. 

Between the perpendicular wall and the isolated crag, the passage measures 

[100] 



perhaps twenty feet ; a succession of irregular steps leads to the top of Trajan's 
Rock, which is a level terrace, shaded by a clump of trees growing out of a rift 
just below the summit. Tradition relates, so said our guide, that from the top of 
this rock, where a tent had been erected for the occasion, the great emperor looked 
down on his legions defiling past. This incident, which may very likely have occurred, 
gives to the scene a wonderful life and color. How well they looked, those old, 
sun-burned legionaries, proudly defiling along this road which they had engineered! 
how fine was the imperial tent of pi;rple cloth with fringes of gold, under this 
splendid sky! how triumphant the sound of the Roman clarions among the mighty 
echoes of these giant clifls! 

We had not before met a Wallachian so proud of his nationality, and so well 
informed upon his country's traditions, as our young monk; he was not, however, 
an exception. We encountered many afterwards; and along with this pride of origin 
they possess a steady confidence in the future rehabilitation of their race. 

All the Roumanian people, whether in Moldavia, Wallachia, or Transylvania, 
have the same enthusiasm. They have a saying, " Roman no ^ere," " the Roman shall 
not perish." Trajan is the great ancestor of them all; and they multiply appella- 
tions which may keep this name before their minds. Everything in nature that 
seems to have a marked superiority or a particularly individual character, is identi- 
fied with him: a mountain higher than others, an isolated peak, is Trajan's Castle, 
or Trajan's Tower; the plains are Trajan's Camps; the avalanche or the thunder is 
his voice; he is everywhere. The very Milky Way in the sky is associated with his 
name : the Wallachian child, gazing at it with ecstasy, will tell you it is " Trajan's 
Road " ! 

The following day we left Cosia, and took the road down the river. The 
country grows more level as we go southward; the gorge of the Olto widens into 
a fertile and well-cultivated valley. At Romnic (ancient Romula, little Rome), where 
we stopped to change horses, the hills stand far back from the river, leaving a wide 
lake of verdure, varied by orchards and cornfields. 

Towards evening we came into the region of vines, and turning to the right, 
made our way up a little valley for an hour, in complete solitude, till we reached 
Intrnlemn'ii, our place of destination for the night. 

The building is a convent, once of considerable importance. There remains now 
only the church and the seigneurial building, in which are Prince Brancovano's pri- 
vate apartments, to which our companion, the prince's secretary, made us welcome. 
The cells and refectories of the nuns are in ruins, and the religious family themselves 
are established a few miles further, at Surpatele. One priest remains here in charge 
of the church, and an old nun takes care of the apartments. This fact would have 
been hardly worth naming, had it not been that she had with her the handsome young 

[110] 



woman, her brother's only cliild, as she Avitli pride infonnt'd ns, whose picture we have 
presented on page 103. 

After a day's quiet rest at Intrulemn'u, and a second spent in visiting the convent 
at Surpatcle, we were again en route, this time for Bistriza, a monastery situated far 
up among the mountains. During the earUer part of the day our road hxy through a 
dehghtful, well-cultivated country; cheerful hamlets scattered under the trees; httle iso- 
lated farms nestled in verdurous nooks; at cross-roads, curious groups of crosses with 
multiplied arms; twice or thrice, on some little elevation, the pyramidal shingled roof 
of a village church, and near it, like a Cossack post of observation, the bell-tower, in 
which hangs, for lack of bell, the iron bar, whereon are struck the hours of service. 

The ever-changing pictures of the day's journey had nothing remarkable or impos- 
ing about them, but by the rapidity with which they succeeded one anothei-, we seemed 
to be turning the leaves of an illustrated book; and the blue sky, the fresh sweet air, 
and the radiant sunshine, gave an infinite charm to each one of the pages, whether the 
picture were but some rustic home on the roadside, or some stately group of giant 
oaks overhanging a ravine, or the far-off summits of the Carpathian Mountains appear- 
ing jjeyond the nearer hill-tops, clad in the purple haze of distance. 

The Monastery of Bistriza, built by Prince Stirbey, and a favorite resort of his, 
enjoys a very high reputation throughout Wallachia. It is Iniilt on a modern plan 
very shocking to tradition, and the architect has been so unlucky as to give it the air 
of a handsome and well-constructed barrack. It presents a cold, correct fa9ade, sur- 
mounted on the left by a pseudo-Gothic tower, and, nearly in the middle, by the dome 
of the church, which fails utterly to harmonize with the rest of the structure. Further- 
more, the building is crushed and overpowered -by the grandeur of the scenery about 
it. Behind the monastery opens a gorge with immense perpendicular w^alls of rock, 
at first sheltering the well-kept gardens attached to the house, but soon growing nar- 
rower, till it scarcely leaves room for the wild leaping Avaters of the Bistriza, w^iich 
fall from rock to rock in foaming cascades. The little stream, at one point, passes 
under a curious natural arch formed by two enormous rocks that lean against and sup- 
port each other; just under this arch the Avaters divide and plunge into a deep, black 
pool, beneath whose surface one can vaguely see great greenish rocks, that seem to 
vibrate under the whirling water. 

The Superior of the monastery received us in a most friendly manner, and we did 
not fail to appreciate the delicious trout from the Bistriza, which he caused to be 
served to us for our breakfast. More difficult was it to express proper admiration for 
the pictures in the great refectory, likenesses of all the hospodars of Wallachia. 

After breakfast we visited the church, decorated also with great wealth of gilding 
and painting. Of the gilding nothing need be said save that it cost dear to those who 
paid for it. As to the paintings, they differed either too much, or not enough, from 

[111] 



the Byzantine ti'adition ; the figures Avere intended to be skilful and sincere, exjires- 
sive and devout; they succeeded in being- pretentious; and seemed the more so, since, 
at the moment, not ten steps off stood a peasant woman, who, holding up a beautiful, 
half-naked child in her arms, was obliging him to touch with his lips a picture of the 
"Virgin. Her eyes humbly cast down, her mouth smiling faintly, one knee bent, and 
the upper part of the figure a little inclined forward lander the weight of her precious 
burden, she presented an adorable picture, uniting in perfect harmony the grace of 
natural beauty and of spiritual emotion. This was the only truly religious picture 
in the church. 

From Bistriza we went on to Polovradj, a monastery situated a few miles dis- 
tant, at the northei-n extremity of a very elevated table-land. The view from the 
front of the buildings is very singular ; the mountain opposite is cleft by an enor- 
mous ravine, many leagues in length and absolutely inaccessible to human foot. In 
this i-avine the Oltezu (the Little Olto) takes its rise. The ridge of rock which 
bars the entry to this chasm is about fifteen hundred feet in height, and can only 
be scaled by many zigzags. Its summit is a level terrace covered with shapeless 
ruins. Here, tradition avers, a mighty chief once dwelt, in a strong castle; and a 
rich treasure, the fruit of his rapines, lies hidden somewhere underneath these ruins. 
The monk who was our guide evidently cherished the dream of discovering this 
treasiu-e; he struck the ground with his stick, seeking for some hollow place, and 
now and then lifting up some large stone, peered ciiriously beneath it. But he only 
brought to light a few fragments of blackish pottery, quite destitute of any dis- 
tinctive mark. 

Meanwhile we surveyed the wide and desolate landscape. As far as the eye could 
see, not a village nor a town; only the great mountains rising higher and higher in 
the distance to the Carpathian wall, all across the northern and western horizon; and 
at oin- feet the little cluster of the monastery buildings, so pitifully small and few. No 
wonder the poor monk sought for a treasure which might open to him a way out 
of this inexpressibly sad abode! 

The next day we were escorted in grand procession by the Superior, two monks, 
and three guides, to visit a stalactiferous grotto, which is regarded as the wonder 
of the neighborhood. It opens upon the great mountain chasm; one reaches it by a 
path along the Oltozu, which roars with dulled sound three hundred feet below. The 
rocky crest which serves for a path is here six feet wide, — there, two ; ascends, 
goes down, climbs again, ends suddenly; three poles with branches interlaced, con- 
tinue it; a ladder of fifteen rounds scales a pei-pendicular cliff; still we make our 
way onward as best we can, always at our left the precipice, and far below the 
little river. 

At last we i-each the grotto. It is very extensive, more than three miles in 

[112] 



length, they say, and consists of a main gallery, from which open dangerous side- 
ways to the right and left. The scene was fairy-like; the brilliant mica of the walls, the 
strange, fantastic architecture of the columns, the drops of water trembling, transparent 
and rose-colored, in the light of the torches, made a picture of extraordinary licauty. 

And yet, far more satisfying to the eye and to the soul was the beauty of 
the great forest to the north of Polovradj, through which we made an excursion on 
the following day, hoping to find traces of the ancient iron mines worked by the 
Romans — probably also by the Dacians — in the first centuries of the Christian era. 

Our road lay through the gorge of Baia-de-Fier ; a clear little brook murmured 
in the depths of the ravine, its rocky bed covered with iron scoriae, and seem- 
ingly stained with rust. Emerging into the open country, we rested awhile, then 
followed the road, now only a path under the giant beeches, tall as masts of ves- 
sels. A fallen tree barred our way ; in 
ten minutes our guides had cut out steps 
in the trunk. Suddenly even the path 
ceased utterly. An impenetrable thicket 
forced us to descend to the bed of the 
brook, and make our way for half an 
hour by leaping from rock to rock. A 
series of little waterfalls compelled us to 
abandon this method of advance. From 
the condition of acrobats we passed to 
that of monkeys; we clung to uprooted 
trees, to drooping branches, and found 
ourselves at last in the depths of a som- 
bre glen, far in the virgin forest, where 
the sun's heat scarcely penetrated, and its 
rays have never fallen. Here we found 
the object of our search. The guides 
showed us three or four excavations lined 
with masonry, and they disinterred for us 
some fragments of bricks blackened by 
smoke. Are they Dacian remains? Are 
they Roman? One cannot say ; only this is certain, that the whole region is ex- 
tremely ferruginous, as the name of the little brook suggests, — Baia-de-Fier, " the 

Iron-bath." 

Reluctantly we left Polovradj; and that our way lay now towards the lands of 
modern civilization was rendered all too clear to us by the telegraph-poles that 
lined the road. 










A Forest Path. 



For an hour or two before reaching Tirgu-Giulu, we remarked throughont all the 
region some evidently unnsual excitement: bands of peasants on foot and on horse- 
back were traversing the plain; mounted messengers were dashing back and forward 
between them and the town; women and children in crowds were gazing iip towards 
the mountains, whence rose clouds of dense smoke, and in whose ravines immense fires 
were burning. In the town the houses were shut, the streets deserted; even the 
prefect was not to be found. Some public calamity seemed imminent. 

Towards night everybody returned, victorious and exultant. There had been an 
attack, a desperate battle, — and the grasshoppers were in full retreat! The invading 
hosts had come down along the northern bank of the Danube, and were just making 
then- way across the mountain wall which comes down at nearly a right angle to 
the river. The advance guard being observed, messengers had been sent oixt to 
raise the country; from far and near the peasants had rallied; they repaired to the 
mountains, and over a space of eighteen miles had set on fire the dry grass, and 




VUlage near Tirgu-Giulu. 

the bushes and branches of trees cut dowai for the purpose. It was this enormous 
conflagration which we had observed as we approached. The fire was bvu-ning still, 
and would burn for a week longer. But the harvests were safe. The grasshoppers, 
driven back by the smoke, would perish with cold far up the mountains, — unless, 
a thing unhappily possible, they might get safe across into Transylvania. 

For two days and two nights the prefect had been on horseback at the head 
of his zealous band of incendiaries. He was fatigued, but rejoicing ; and shortly 
rallied sufficiently to show us the town, — a beautiful promenade, a bridge, ponds, 
some manufactories, a pottery, and a new church. 

Much more picturesque, however, was the little village through Avhich we passed 
on the following day, soon after leaving Tirgu-Giulu. Here we remarked, besides 
the usual quaint, pointed-roofed thatched cottages, one of those many-armed crosses 
so characteristic of Wallachia, and an enormous haystack, of a kind which, hereto- 
fore, we had usually seen only m the open country, quite at a distance from any 

habitation. 

[114] 



A week later found ns on the other side of the mountams, and in the wildest 
part of Transylvania. It is a i-egiou abounding in Eoraan ruins. Towers, changed 
into cliurches, the columns and broken walls of theatres and palaces, betray the 
Roman town Ulpia Trajana, and leading from it towards the mountains ran the 




Roman Mausoleum. 

great road called by the name of the imperial conqueroi-, of which vestiges are yet 
plainly visible. In all this region, however, nothing is so strangely attractive as a 
great solitary mausoleum, evidently of Trajan's time, which either must have been 
used as a church, or has served in some way to consecrate the ground about it, 

since a little hamlet of rustic crosses has gathered at its base. 

[n.3] 



Past the Roman ruins of this district of Hatszeg now runs a well-built and 
perfectly equipped railway. It is a branch of the great main line which makes the 
circuit of Transylvania, and its existence is due to the discovery of remarkable coal 
beds in this high Carpathian valley. The road at first follows the banks of the 
Strel, keeping along the southern base of a range of high hills; then reaching the 
eastern corner of the level ground, it begins to climb, in long curves, the slopes of 
the Carpathian Mountains. At every curve a new picture delights the eye: now we 
see the great plain of Hatszeg, with its groups of poplar and elm trees, the spark- 
ling river gleaming at intervals through their foliage ; now, only the rocky moun- 
tain sides, or long declivities covered with forests. The train — very long on account 
of the coal-wagons that are going up to be filled — writhes around projecting masses 




The Old Castle of Deva. 

of rock, and through sinuous cuts ; the track lies in folds, like a monstrous snake, 
and we often come out directly above the place where we were a few minutes 
before. 

The town of Petroseny, the mining head-quarters, which we reach at last, ofiers 
nothing to the traveller who is in search of the picturesque; and yet it is interest- 
ing to see a town which, ten years earlier, was but a wretched hamlet occupied by 
a few almost barbarous peasants, and is to-day a busy centre of trafl[ic, comprising 
a population of more than seven thousand inhabitants. Petroseny is laid out in rec- 
tangular fashion, — the houses of the miners standing each by itself in its little garden. 
At regular intervals occur more pretentious dwellings, adorned with balconies and 
verandas, occupied by the superintendents. 

The mines are very easily worked, the strata, in all about one hundred and 
twenty feet in depth, lying in parallel rows, not far under ground, and presenting 
[11.;] 



their edges on cither side of the valley. Here the miners are at work in the day- 
light, under the open s]iy; they are not so capable laborers as the English or the 
Belgian, and yet the Hungarian miner gets out nearly two tons of coal daily, so great 
are the advantages under which he works. 

Turning northward, two remarkable monuments of the historic past attract us: 
one, the ancient fortress of Deva ; the other, the castle of Yayda-IIunyade. The 
fortress of Deva, situated on the bank of the Maros, crowns the summit of a 
trachytic rock, in shape nearly a perfect cone. The buildings were constructed 
"in the time of the fairies," the peasants say; and it is evident that this point, just 
at the entrance to the interior plains of Transylvania, must have been of great stra- 
tegic importance from the earliest ages. Even as late as 1849, the old fortress was 



i; 


--"=^i^>>^ - 


™^ 


«- i 


t - 


2 •'"> 


i 


^A , 


t 


I '■^SBH^ 


'i 1 iiijin-- 




K 



^ 



,4m''W'^^^S^- 



Castle of Vayda Hunyade. 



a bone of contention between the Hungarians and the Imperialists, and, finally, either 
by accident or treachery, was in great part destroyed by the explosion of the pow- 
der-magazine, the small Hungarian garrison being buried under the ruins. 

N'ot far distant, in a little valley watered by an affluent of the Maros, stands 
the other castle, less ancient, but not less famous in the annals of the land. It 
has preserved the name of its founder, the Vayda (or Yoivode) Hunyade. This war- 
rior of the fifteenth century, belonging to both the great nationalities of the Carpa- 
thians, — since he was Roumanian by birth, and Hungarian (or " Hun ") in manners 
and alliances, — has remained Avith the Transylvanians the most popular of their heroes, 
and visitors come from every part of the country to his castle, as pilgruns to a 
shrine. 

The edifice, though siirrounded by high walls, and built upon a rocky plateau 

[117] 



on the river bank, seems rather a country seat than a fortress. King Matthias Cor- 
vinus, whose wife was an Italian, had the amiability to invite artists from over the 
mountains to construct iipon one of the bastions "a Venetian gallery," adorned with 
paintings, mirrors, faiences, and carved stone-work. From this circular promenade 
the queen could, if she liked, behold condemned prisoners thrown into the den of 
bears far beneath, — an incident of not infrequent occurrence, we are told. It might 
have been an amusement to her, but the memory of it makes the place sombre. 

The work of restoration and embellishment, begun Ave or six years ago, goes on 
slowly ; the plans of the architect are on a scale so large that a period of twenty years 
was fixed as the needful time for their complete execution; and, as lack of funds brings 




Ancient Gate in Kolosvar. 



the work occasionally nearly to a standstill, it is probable that a much longer time will 
be required. 

A few hours by rail brought us to Kolosvar, the capital of the Hungarian part 
of Transylvania. Probably no other city in Europe of thirty thousand inhabitants has 
so many small white houses as has this one; but there is an air of great neatness 
about it, and the streets are broad and edged with sidewalks. It is really quite a 
German town; the original Roman colony had dwindled to a wretched Roumanian 
hamlet, when the Germans seized upon it at the beginning of the fifteenth century. 
They rebuilt the town, and transformed its Latin name Clusia into Klausenburg ; then, 
according to their custom, scorned by the brave Magyars, they inclosed it with 
strong walls. These ramparts still exist in part, and serve as curiously incongru- 
ous walls for some of the modern dwelling-houses ; there remain also two or three 
of the gates, giving a somewhat feudal air to most prosaic neighborhoods. 
[118] 



From Kolosvar we iiuule an expedition into the mountain region of central Ti-an- 
sylvania, a remarkable mining district abounding in salt, and in gold, lead, iron, and 
quicksilver. 

Our first day was occupied with the salt-mines of Thorda, which lie to the north 
of the town of the same name. We entered through a narrow gallery in the side 
of the hill, and soon found ourselves on a sort of cornice overhanging one of the 
great halls of excavation. From below came up a dull sound of echoes and of voices. 
A light mist seemed to fill the midefined space, which the eye vainly sought to 
penetrate. Minute, luminous points, or rather veiled lights, were moving in this 
immense well, but not a figvu'e could be distinguished, nor even the vague shadow 
which suggests the human form. We sought vainly some fixed point whereby to 
measure the depth into which we looked ; it was absolutely measureless to the eye. 
In point of fact, it is four hundred and eighty feet from the floor to the roof of 
this strange undergroiuid hall, a height nearly equal to that of the spire of Strasburg 
cathedral. An interminable winding staircase, cut in the crystalline salt, permitted us 
to descend to the floor of the hall, and brought us into the midst of a busy world 
of miners. Standing two by two, along a kind of step cut in the saline rock, they 
work to detach it from the mass. All their motions are regular and rhythmic; they 
bend and raise themselves again at the same instant; their picks keep time upon the 
line which marks the separation between one block and the next. At first they 
detach the mass laterally, then work at it beneath with horizontal strokes. The 
sound of the blow tells them at last when the mass is free; they test it with a 
lever, and go on to the next. 

The shape of the excavations has varied a good deal at different pei'iods. They 
have now the form of bells or cupolas, as being that best fitted to resist the enor- 
mous superincumbent weight. Quite receiitly the mode has been adopted of exca- 
vating the rock in long galleries, whose lateral walls meet in arches overhead, like 
those of casemates. 

After our curiosity was satisfied in this undei-ground world, the guide led us 
up a narrow staircase, cut, like all the rest, in the solid salt. Soon a gleam of 
daylight sparkled through the brilliant crystal around and above us; the guide lifted 
a trap-door, and we emerged into the open air. The region around was a true 
desert of Sahara. Banks of grayish clay hid the horizon of plain and mountain; 
ridges of crude salt lifted their crystals, tinged with rose-color, blue, and green by 
the substances that were mingled with the salt; the meagre vegetation of the sea-shore 
peeped from crannies here and there ; along a hollow a line of glittering salt indicated 
the bed where, in the rainy season, ran a brook; pools of salt water, edged with a rim 
white as snow, stood in cup-shaped cavities; and over all shone down a sun pitiless as 
that of Africa. 



The next day, in the early morning, we were crossing the fertile plain where the 
undisciplined Dacian jjeojile vainly strove to stand against the shock of Trajan's armies, 
and noticed with delight how the mountain-door widened as we drew near, through 
which we were to enter the once famous mining region which was to Europe, before 
the discovery of America, the principal treasure-house of precious metals. 

The entrance to the gorge, a real triumphal arch, is formed by a cutting engineers 
have made for the road through the porphyry rock. The irregular obelisk left at the 
north of the torrent bears the name of Leany-Ko, or the Maiden's Rock. The legend 
is that a young princess, besieged in a castle near by, escaped from her enemies, a 
Tartar horde, and sought refuge by night on this lofty pedestal. One must needs 
believe she had fairy help to blind their eyes when daylight came, for no more 
conspicuous hiding-place could well be imagined than the summit of the "Maiden's 
Rock." 




The Maiden's Rock. 

The mines nearest Thorda are those of Torotzko; to reach them, we crossed the 
lower slopes of the Szekel-ko, or Szeklers' Rock. This hill is extremely famous in 
Transylvanian history. On its summit once stood a stronghold which the Mongols 
besieged in the thirteenth century. Its defenders, reduced to the last extremity, were 
about to surrender, when a band of Szeklers, a peasant race, descendants of the 
ancient Huns, rushing forth from some valley of the Carpathians, fell upon the Asiat- 
ics, and put them to flight. From that time the hill belonged to those who had 
rescued it, and the few fragments of walls yet remaining on its top ai-e the ruins 
of the fortifications they erected. The anniversary of the victory is yet celebrated, 
and on that day the inhabitants of Torotzko, obedient to an ancient custom, set up 
tall poles bearing little flags, like the lances of the Szekler warriors. 

[120] 



The "Rock" is nearly four (hcjusand feet high, and noticeably resembles a couch- 
ant lion with lifted head. Its aspect is singularly sombre. 7VII the fields rescued 
from its slopes are arranged in terraces, and walled up with rough stones : no tree 
breaks the desolate uniformity of these gray steps. After the harvest, when all 
traces of husbandry have disappeared, this idea of giant steps is irresistibly presented 
to the observer. 

From the sunnnit, which we reached by a circuitous route without nuich diffi- 
culty, the view is, if possible, even moi'e sombre. The eye rests u]>on the houses 
of Torotzko, all exactly alike, and disposed iu unequal rows around the great square. 
Gardens and orchards make a belt of verdure around it, but outside of that, the 
barren earth stretches its desolate waste. In almost every land the country is more 
verdant than the immediate neighborhood of towns ; here the contrary is true ; the 
town is an oasis in the midst of a desert. 




The Szeklers' Rock. 



Offenbanya, "the town of gold," is in a valley far more cheerful than Torotzko, 
"the town of iron." Rivulets come down in rapids and in cascades towards the river; 
poplar trees and elms grow beside the running water ; the houses and cabins are 
scattered in the fields and along the hill-sides. The traveller may stop with pleas- 
ure to visit this charming neighborhood, but he soon learns that the gold mines, 
which in the mediaeval period made the place famous, are now little else than a 
matter of tradition ; and not very much more important are those of Yeres-Patak, 
where there are government works, with great parade of efficiency and industry. 

Between Kolosvar a«id Nagy-V^rad the railway follows the valley of the Koros, 
and reveals to the traveller a world of charming scenery. At many points are tunnels, 
often making a frame for some lovely picture; and all along in the valley it is a 

[121] 



pleasure to see how the country deserves its name of Transylvania, or perhaps rather 
Sylvania, " the land of forests." On every side, not only on gentle slopes, but on 
rocky escarpments, wherever a fissure affords room for the roots to cling, there is 
a tree, or a cluster of trees, well-grown and tall, and relieved against the gray chalk 
or the dark-red sandstone. Emerging from each tunnel, we find the forest still there, 
and its fragrance comes to us on the wind. One cannot, however, see without regret 
the prodigality with Avhich this sylvan wealth is squandered. Wood-cutters seem to 
be at woi'k everywhere ; the Sebes Koros — the rapid Koros, as this branch of the 
river is called — bears on its arrowy current an endless train of pine logs ; saw- 
mills are humming at every waterfall, and wagons loaded with lumber stand waiting 
at all the stations. 

From IS^agy-Varad, which the Germans call Gross- Wardein, we made a long expe- 
dition by rail across the great Hungarian plain, reaching the Danulje near the mouth 
of the Drave. Here we made some days' stay at Essek, and planned our journey 
thence by the Save, Agram, and Laibach, to Trieste. 




The Szeklers' Rock as seen from Torotzko. 

The population of Essek, considered ethnologically, is composed of Jews, Ger- 
mans, Magyars, and Slaves. If we regard the religions, the diversity is yet greater: 
we find Israelites, Catholic Germans and Protestant Germans, Catholic Magyars and 
Protestant Magyars, Catholic Slaves and United-Greek Slaves, and, lastly, quite a 
small immber who belong to the Eastern Church. In addition to this resident pop- 
ulation, we find bands of gypsies encamped outside the town, as is the case in every 
country in Europe where there is much unimproved land. 

One of the characteristic traits of Slavic manners among the peasantry is a pecu- 
liar association founded on relationship, a sort of co-operative society for the use and 
improvement of the common property. The descendants of the same grandfather 
remain together as a family; and it is not, as with us, the individual, but the family 

[122] 



that receives and transmits the patrimony. Ordinarily, the oldest man conducts the 
aflairs of this community, and exercises a ceitain authoi-ity over the rest; but this 
is not invariably the case, and it has even occurred that a son, chosen by common 
consent to the chief position, has, in virtue of his office, exercised authority over his 
father. Whether designated by age, or by the free will of the rest, this individual 




The Valley of the Sebes-Koros. 

is the agent of the society in its dealings with the world outside; his signature is 
valid, his bargains binding upon all. 

Some of these groups are very numerous ; the one which we visited comprised 
nineteen couples or their representatives. Their home was a fine form, under good 
cultivation; they received us with much hospitality, and we passed an hour or two 
very pleasantly in their society. The men are much fairer than the Magyars, and 

[123J 



have blonde or brown hair. Many of the women, tall and slender, are really pretty. 
Their eyes especially, clear and brilliant, blue or dark gray in color, have much 
beauty. The lower part of the face is less pleasing, the chin generally too promi- 
nent, and the lips somewhat thick. 

Their costumes suggested those of the Orientals. The men wear black felt hats 
with the bi'im turned up all around, linen shirts, and loosely-fitting trousers. This 
is the every-day dress, as we saw it in the mild weather of autumn ; a few men 
whom we met, however, wore in addition a sort of vest of blue cloth, adorned in 
front Avith rows of metal buttons, and embroidered in the back with yellow braid. 

The women remind one of the Greek girls of Attica. In some cases they wore 
but a single garment reaching to the ankles and belted around the waist; others 
added a sleeveless jacket edged with gold cord; but all alike were coiffed with a 

kind of kerchief falling on the shoulders, 
or fastened under the chin; and all wore 
necklaces, consisting of metal discs and 
beads, wound many times around the neck. 
From Essek we crossed the country 
to the town of Brod, on the Save, where 
we had to await the boat coming up from 
the Danube, and being delayed a few hours, 
improved the time in visiting the town on 
the Bosnian side of the river. Since the 
friendly relations between the Turkish and 
Austrian governments allow the people on 
either side of the Save to communicate freely, 
there has arisen, opposite the Austrian town, a 
little Bosnian town, which is rapidly increas- 
ing in importance. The Bosnian peasants 
bring hither their mutton, eggs, and fowls, 
which Jewish traders buy in quantities, to sell 
again in the markets of Agram and Pesth. 
We were quickly attracted, thanks to 
the ringing music of a gypsy performer, 
to a certain caharet whei'e dancing was going on, — dancing in the purely Oriental 
style, — a spectacle simply, which the audience were assembled to admire. In the East 
there are but few dances in which the two sexes take part together; and even when 
this does occiir, as in some forms of the Romaic dance, it is only a sort of prome- 
nade, in which the men first join, holding each other by the hand, and afterwards 
the women in the same manner: there is no dancing in couples. Even in the Romaika, 
[124] 




Peasant Woman near Essek. 






Si!s#?^^flflMi 




BOSNIAN DANCING GIRL. 



only he who leads the train dances ; the rest merely form a procession, marching 
after him. With the exception of this exercise, which recalls the Homeric chorus, 
and in which a whole village may take part, the Oriental dance is little more than 
a spectacle, like our ballets; the audience pay for admission ; the performer dances 
to be admired for beauty of costume, and grace and suppleness of movement. 

After the dancing ceased, we walked 
about the streets for an hour or two, and 
made a few small purchases to sei've as 
souvenirs of the country. Our shopping ended, 
we came down to the river's edge, and 
while the ferry-boat was employed in trans- 
porting to" the Austrian side a drove of cattle 
bought in Bosnia, we amused ourselves with 
regarding the picturesque variety of types and 
costumes before us. 

Not far from where we stood, a gypsy 
tinker had set up his flying workshop, and 
at the moment was mending a caldron which 
a woman had brought. Around him on the 
ground were scattered various implements of 
his trade; curiously enough, he was dressed 
completely in white, and though probably the 
garments had been worn for some weeks, 
they actually appeared white still, from the 
contrast with the bronze-black skin of his 
arms and throat. The owner of the caldron, 
who sat on the ground near by, watching him 
as he worked, was also arrayed in white, but 
made a fine contrast to the gypsy, with her blue 
eyes and fair complexion, and very light hair. 
A few steps further lounged a group of 
Bosnian Merchant. Mussulman Bosnians, silently surveying the 

scene; and another Bosnian, a trader in small wares, stood leaning against his shop- 
wall with an air of consummate self-satisfaction. The Christian part of the popula- 
tion of Bosnia are distinguished by their dress, especially by the turban, Avhich with 
them is usually black and red, while the Mussuhnan's is white, gray, or green; the 
latter wears also a full beard, while the Christian has only a moustache. Our Bos- 
nian trader was clad in a long red pelisse, edged with fur, and his black turban 
and shaven chin declared him a member of one of the three Christian confessions. 
[126] 




Meantime the sun had set. Keluotantly we abandoned the river hank, and ia a 
few minutes the ferry-boat had landed us on the Austrian side. At ten o'clock the 
same evening we embarked on the little steamboat from Semlin, and at half past 
nine the following night arrived at Sissek, in Croatia. 

From Sissek we go by rail to Agram, thence to Laibach, the capital of Car- 
niola, and so to Trieste and the sea. 

The traveller who embai-ks at Trieste to visit the eastern coast of the Adiiatic, 
will find the journey long and tedious, unless he is prepared to amuse himself with 
muiute observations of the shore near which he sails. And if the long chain of 
Dalmatian Mountains, which a native writer disrespectfully likens to heaps of ashes 
solidified by the rain and sun, at last becomes monotonous, the vigorous outlines of 
the narrow lUyrian islands, with their scanty and sombre vegetation and their minia- 
ture capitals, and the old cities along the coast of the mainland, offer a satisfactory 
compensation for the fatigues and annoyances of four days in the very small and ill- 
appointed steamer of the Austrian Lloyd. 

On the evening of the fourth day, however, it was with real pleasure that we 
entered the roads of Gravosa, and an hour later found ourselves established in the 
hotel near the Porta Pille, which the guide-book calls the most comfortable in Ra- 
gusa, and which doubtless is so, inasmuch as it is the only one the city aiibrds. 
This little fact gives an idea into what decay the once proud republic has fallen, — 
this city whicli, in the sixteenth century, was able to bear the loss of eighty ships- 
of-war in a day, without being utterly cast down by this enormous disaster. 

Ragusa is one of those cities of which it is diffieidt to speak liy halves. If 
one stays thei'e moi'e than twelve hours, he should remain six months, and could 
find employ for all his time, whether he cares for historic souvenirs, or revels in the 
beauty of landscape merely. It has been often called the Slavic Venice, and origi- 
nally had canals for streets, like its poetic and superb rival; but the earthquake of 
1667 filled up the canals with the ruins of the buildings, and to-day in their place 
are wide streets laid out at right angles, and paved with solid stones. The principal 
street divides the city into two nearly equal parts, and leads from the Porta Pille 
to the palace of the ancient doges, now occupied by the caj)itano-circolare, or sub- 
prefect of the circle of Ragusa. It is a very handsome building of the fifteenth 
century, and the whim took us to make a sketch of it, to the great scandal of the 
sentinel, who seized upon us promptly. The capitano-circolai'e was notified, and came 
down to investigate the case. The soldier, in much excitement, explained that an 
Englishman had lately endeavored to make a plan of the buildings, and that an 
order had been given to arrest all persons making similar attempts. The captain 
explained to him that this order concerned solely the fortifications, and apologized to us 
for the incivility of the subaltern. In further conversation he advised us to ascend 

[127] 



Mount Malastiza, an hour and a half from Ragusa, in Turkish territory, assuring us that 
from the summit we should enjoy a fine view of a part of Herzegovina. We accord- 
ingly made an expedition thither, one fine morning, and had reached the base of the hill, 
when a beardless and chubby-faced sentinel rushed towards us wildly, and breath- 
lessly inquired what we were about to do. " To ascend this hill." " Foi- what pur- 
pose ? " "Per vedere lo paese " (to see the country) . " There is no use in that ; non 
e paese qua" (there is no country over there). For this model soldier there existed 
nothing at all beyond the frontier of the states of the emperor and the king. 

From Ragusa we continued our journey southward along the coast, and landed at 
Spitza, in Antivari, whence we crossed the mountains to the foot of the Lake of Scutari, 
a long, narrow lake, which gives access to the inland country of Montenegro. 

It was with emotion easy to be understood that we found ourselves at last gazing 
upon that glorious little land which for four centuries has held in check all the power 
of the Ottoman empire. 

!Near the northern extremity of the lake, on the right, we remark the mouth of 
the river Moratcha, a stream which waters the fertile plains of Zetta and Leschopolia: 
an isolated hillock, seen with difficulty through the fog, bears an Ottoman fortress, 
Jabliak, Turkey's lost sentinel on this frontier. Lost, one well may call it, for the 
Montenegrins take the fort every time they think it worth the trouble, and its his- 
tory is a series of sieges and stormings. 

On the left, at the very head of the lake, is the mouth of the Tsernovich, which 
we enter and follow for many miles, until it becomes a mere brook, over whose 
shallows the boatmen push our little craft, standing to the knees in the water. At 
a sudden turn we come upon Rjeka, a small hamlet consisting of a monastery and 
a group of houses. This monastery has its place in history. It became the capital 
of Montenegro after the Turks first established themselves at Jabliak, and before 
Tsettinia, the present capital, existed. In 1492, there was a Slavonic printing-press 
established here, and we were shown, when at Tsettinia, a missal printed at Rjeka, 
bearing that date. Among this people, considered but semi-civilized, the art of print- 
ing existed then, at a period when it was yet unknown to two thirds of civilized 
Europe, almost half a century before it was, in France, the object of Francis I.'s 
Draconian severity! This printing-press disappeared in some way, it is not known 
when; but in our time, the Vladika Peter III., obeying one of those happy inspira- 
tions frequent with him, established a Slavic printing-press on the same spot, and had 
printed there some religious and national works, a collection of his own poetry, and 
the precious Montenegrin register known under the name of the Grlitza. But imme- 
diately upon his death, — an event which occurred in the winter of 1852, and at the 
time of Omer Pacha's invasion, at a moment of great scarcity, the types were melted 
down and run into bullets j and the printing-press has never been re-established. 
[128] 




PEASANTS IN THE VICINITY OF ESSEK. 



At Rjeka we engaged a strong mountain pony to carry onr luggage, and set 
out in a pouring rain, on the footpath leading to Tsettinia. The Prince of Monte- 
negro, who has done much to help his nation in respect to material and moral 
progress, has never — and with good reason — attempted to improve the roads of 
the principality. A fine military road might easily be constructed, but it would be 
fatally advantageous to an enemy in case of invasion. Consequently, it was by a 
footpath, and that of the rudest kind, that we made our way to the capital of 
Montenegro. 

!N^or does this capital present an appearance more in accordance with European 
ideas. It is probably the smallest village in the principality, and was for a long 
time nothing more than a monastery. Its position near the westei-n frontier of the 
state made it preferable as a residence for the vladikas, and by degrees seven or 
eight houses gathered about the church. To-day there are sixteen in all; and if one 
excepts the public buildings, the monastery, the palace, the arsenal, the hotel, and the 
house of the minister, there are not a dozen for private individuals. 

If the capital city of Montenegro is not large, it is at least laid out Avith reg- 
ularity. It forms a sort of T, and is composed of two streets meeting at right 
angles; at the point of junction is a triangular open space, in this space a tree, 
and under this tree a well, which represents the forum of Tsettinia. The only impor- 
tant building which adorns this place is the hotel, a house built in European fashion, 
and l)ut recently erected, since some few travellers have had the happy idea of vis- 
iting Montenegro, in search of that element of the picturesque now become so rare 
in Europe. The hotel is comfortable; the host is a Dalmatian Servian, with a men-y 
face, not a distinguished polyglot, it must be owned, and yet, from long practice, 
skilled in understanding the language of signs. 

When the traveller is at leisure, he may amuse himself by sitting at the win- 
dow, and looking out upon the boulevard — so to speak — of Tsettinia. Around the 
well are gathered some young girls, whose beauty is perhaps rather masculine, but 
whose air of robust health is delightful to the eye; they have come to draw water, 
also to exchange that neighborly gossip wherein the fair sex no more fails at Tset- 
tinia than in any village of New England. One could not aver that no glances 
were exchanged between this group and that which, a few steps off, is talldng politics, 
under pretence of watching the exciting incidents of a game of ball. Around the 
players are gathered the elegants of the place, — handsome fellows, formidably armed, 
who smoke chibouques, discuss the game, and incidentally talk over the Eastern ques- 
tion, the recent revolt, and the probable intention of the great powers. On a fine lawn 
which stretches to the angle of the street, some warriors of maturer age are seated 
in a ring. From a distance it looks like a banquet; on nearer view, we perceive that 
[130] 



these fathers of their eountry, senators, royal guards, or simple peasants, are amusing 
themselves vvitli a i-ustic game of cards. 

We left Tsettinia by a footpath leading westward over the mountains to Cat- 
taro. The valley of Niegosch, through which we passed, is perhaps the most beau- 
tiful in Montenegro. Trees, cultivated fields, villages of cheerful aspect, agreeably 
surprise the traveller, saddened by the general aridity of the country. We passed 
near the two hamlets of Niegosch and Dujido, one at the right and the other at 
the left of the road. Mountains of moderate height shut in the horizon at the north 
and south; at the west the view ends with one of those rude lines which tell the 
experienced traveller that some steep escarpment lies before him. And, indeed, on 
reaching the edge of the plateau, we looked down the dizziest precipice in all Europe. 
At the bottom of a funnel-shaped basin gleamed like a sapphire a little lake no larger 
than one's hand. It was the Bay of Cattaro ; the town itself hidden by angles of the 
clifis. Moving along the edge we came in sight of the houses, and it seemed as if one 
might drop a pebble straight down into any chimney. 

It seemed as if we were not more than fifteen minutes distant from the town. We 
dismounted and took a path whose endless zigzags brought us in an hour and a half to 
the banks of a broad mountain torrent, which emerges from the rocks, and has but a ten 
minutes' course before it fldls into the bay; it is one of the outlets of the subterranean 
streams of Montenegro. The breakneck path by which we had come down is much 
frequented by the Montenegrins who come to market at Cattaro, and when they have 
no mules, load one of the party with the produce which they bring for sale ; and the 
man is no less surefooted than the beast. Half-way down the descent, a broad imperial 
road takes the place of the path, and indicates the frontier of Austria. 

The same evening we were in Cattaro, forgetting the day's fatigue over an excellent 
supper at the Hotel Maria-Theresa, and the next morning were on our way back to 
Trieste. ^I3ij 




'^fe!,«f 




MOUNT ATIIOS AND ATHENS. 



FROM the southern coast of Turkey, eastward of 
the Greek peninsula, three long and narrow promontories 
stretch out into the sea. Of these, two are wild and moun- 
tainous tracts, scantily peopled, and in no way attractive 
to the visitor, while the third. Mount Athos, — though but 
rarely visited, it is true, — is in some regards one of the 
most interesting little corners of Europe, and is the home 
of a jjopulation absolutely peculiar in its character and 
mode of life, its form of government, its literary, and 
especially its artistic efforts. It is, in a word, a land of 
monasteries and of monks, the little territory, about thirty 
miles long and four or five in breadth, containing no less 
than twenty of these religious establishments, and, in addi- 
tion to these, the mountain sides abounding in solitary 
cells and hermitages, each with its devout inhabitants. By 
a curious superstition in the Greek church it is regarded 
as a kind of profanation for one priest to officiate in the 
same sanctuary with another, so that these monasteries and hermitages are supplied with 
the almost incredible number of nine hundred and fifty churches or chapels. Some of 

[132] 



J) 



^Atiii 



LOT. 




D 

Z 

W 

o 

s 

IX 

w 
tl. 


h 

W 

> 

o 

o 

H 

[1. 

o 
w 



these are, of course, very small, but many are large and costly structures, richly deco- 
rated with gilding and paintings in fresco, after the Byzantine fashion. 

The mountain is governed by twenty epistates, representing the twenty monasteries ; 
a president, elected every four years by this assembly, shares the executive power with 
the representatives of the foui* oldest and most important monasteries. These four 
representatives, with the president, administer public affairs, and render account to the 
general assembly, Avhich, besides its other functions, takes cognizance of crimes and 
misdemeanors. All laws must bear the imprint of the public seal, which is cut in 
quarters, one fourth being in the keeping of each representative, and the president hold- 
ing the key by which the four parts are reunited, so that the consent of the five is 
signified by the stamp. The Turkish government has recognized, ever since the taking 
of Constantinople, this little monachal i-epublic, on condition of a payment of five 
hundred thousand piasters annually. This the pious brethren are well able to afford, 
for their revenues are large: besides the almost fabulous wealth of gold and precious 
stones in their shrines and upon their pictures, their receipts from the sale of wood, 
almonds, and olives, are very considerable, and they also own large domains in Walla- 
chia, in the island of Thasos, and along the sea-coast of Turkey in Europe. 

The history of Mount Athos is obscure from the time of Christ to the tenth cen- 
tury. The monks ascribe to Constantine the founding of the Monastery of Lavra, but 
this is hardly authentic. It is, however, certain that the monasteries of Athos played 
an important part in the time of the Byzantine emperors; and patriarchs of the Greek 
Church, who sometimes even disposed of the imperial crown, were chosen thence. The 
great Athonite painter, Manuel Pansclinos, whose works have been ever since copied 
and re-copied in the monastery studios, was born some time during the twelfth centmy. 

Of the twenty monasteries of Mount Athos, seventeen are occupied by Greek monks, 
one by Greek and Russian, and two by Ser^^an and Bulgarian brethren. The illustra- 
tion on page 131 represents Esphigmenou, one of the finest of the Greek monasteries. 

Of the two occupied by Slavic monks, Kiliandari (page 135) is rather the most 
important. Behind it, the mountain rises abruptly, making an exquisite background of 
foliage for the picturesquely irregular roofs and cupolas of the buildings. The library 
of Kiliandari is rich in Slavic manuscripts, and its gardens, dedicated to St. Tryphon, 
patron of gardeners, are the best cultivated in the whole region. 

Besides painting, which with the Athonite monks is rather a handicraft than an 
art, — so rigid and mechanical is the method they follow in preparing their frescos, 
— decorative woi-k of all kinds is practised in the monasteries. Mosaics and tiles of 
glass and tei-ra-cotta are pi'epared by them to be used in pavements of churches in 
connection with slabs of marble and porphyry. Wood-carving is also carried to a 
great degree of perfection. The traveller is shown crosses and triptychs, images, 

and stalls, of wonderful delicacy and originality. We are accustomed to think that 

[134] 



||?^"Ji(""W'''" 




this exquisite work in wood ceased witli the German mediaeval artists whose master- 
pieces are preserved in the museums of Europe ; but no longer ago than 1855, a 
monk of Mount Athos, Father Agatangelos, exhibited at the French Exposition carved 
work in wood which Veit Stoss himself might have been proud to own. 

A tranquil and undisturbed life is that of Mount Athos. Once only has the rumor 
of war come near them. In 1821, a few of the monks sided with the Greek patriots, 




The Propylaea. 

and drew upon themselves and the sacred mountain the displeasure of the Porte. An 
engagement took place near Mount Athos in which the Greeks were victorious; but 
the Tui'ks returned in great force, and the Greeks were driven away. Then terror 
spread over Mount Athos. The monks abandoned the open country, placed their 
treasures on shipboard, and took shelter in two of their strongest monasteries. The 
Turkish pacha did not venture openly to attack these formidable rampai-ts, but made 
propositions of peace to the monks; permitted to enter, he instantly gave up everything 

[13fi] 



to pillage. Happily the monks had removed all their treasures and relics to Greek 
vessels, and they were transported safely to ^gina, whence they were brought back 
at the close of the war. A strong feeling against the Turkish oppressor still lin- 
gers in the monasteries, and of all Christian tributaries of the Porte who will rejoice 
at its downfall, not the least enthusiastic will be the Byzantine monks of Mount 
Athos. 

It is the Bavarians who have selected the site of modern Athens, and we cannot 












The Temple of the Wingless Victory. 



regard their choice as fortunate. Instead of sheltering the city behind the Acropolis, 
they have exposed it to the severity of the north winds; and instead of imitating 
Adrian's veneration for the city of Theseus, they have erected their cumbersome 
structures upon the ruins of the ancient city. There is not a hand's breadth of 
ground in this Attic plain which is not precious, and it should have been left intact 
for the research and the veneration of all future time. 

Looking down from the heights of the Acropolis, this great dull town of forty- 

[i:i7] 



five thousand inhabitants is the single discordant note in the harmonious concert of 



'& 



nature. There is nothing more beautiful in the world than this arid Attica, like a 
blood-horse whose every vein and muscle is discernible through the skin. At first, 
this surpluses one, but we come to find in it at last an infinite charm, a savor far 
more delicate than that of more violent contrasts and oppositions. To this fascina- 
tior of outline must be added the magic efiect of light and purity of atmosphere 
which gives it its value. 

There is no sky in the world so pure as that of Athens. No vapor, even in 
the farthest distance, imj^airs the freedom of the drawing. This misty blending of far- 
ofi" sky and land, so common in the north, is unknown in Greece ; there is no rude 
contrast of light and shade; only one soft tint of indescribable harmony. This purity 
of atmosphere, a savant tells us, is due to the absence of vegetation. "Whatever be 
its cause, its effect is wonderful. 

The rock of the Acropolis commands the entire modern town, and is itself the 
most precious portion of ancient Athens. Much has been written upon it, and it 
is, indeed, a vast field for observation. Here the rudest ignorance yields to emo- 
tion, and the most ardent aspirations bow down before the strong and mighty calm 
of the genius whose work consecrates the place. But lately the secret of this tran- 
quil beauty has been mathematically explained. A geometrician has made accurate 
and thorough measurements of these wonderful Greek edifices, and has ascertained 
that in this architecture, as in nature, all the lines obey a certain curve and incli- 
nation. These Greek buildings were designed from nature, we may say; and the 
absolute harmony of their lines with the lines environing them is the cause of that 
perfection which no modern art has been able to attain. Greek art knew how to 
interpret nature and go on with the divine work; that is to say, it was not unmind- 
ful whether its structure was destined for valley or mountain-top ; and the Parthenon 
crowns and completes the Acropolis as the pediment of Phidias crowns and completes 
the Parthenon. Only after long study can we understand the discreet simplicity of 
these combinations, so unassuming and so natural seems the result. 

We can form no idea of Greek art from the models borrowed fi-om it, and for 
a twofold reason : we have neglected this essential harmony with external nature, and 
we have fallen far short of the faithfulness with which the Greek architect wrought. 

The passage-way by which one enters the walled enclosure of the Acropolis 
passes undei- two sombre archways, and emei'ges near the two Propylsea. A part of 
their columns have been thrown down by the explosion of a powder-magazine, but 
the walls yet remain firm, and better than anywhere else we can study the aston- 
ishing precision with which the Greeks biiilt up their marble blocks without cement. 
The enormous stones seem laid in place l)ut yesterday, and the masculine severity 
of this titanic work contrasts singularly with the delicacy of the little temple of the 
[138] 



<ri W Ii!llllll.llll]!lll{lllllfM hMlllltiliillhllllllWIfllllllinillj 



*l,|||ijl:!;iiiiis 




3 
o 



o 

<; 

w 

X 
h 



DC 

CO 

h 

o 



u 



Wingless Victory situated at its right. Tlie facade of this dainty structure is com- 
posed of four monolithic columns, surmounted by Ionic capitals. Its name, the "Wing- 
less Victory," has given rise to much dispute; some assert that it was so named, 







The Theatre of Herod. 



indicating that Theseus, on his return from Crete, had not sent word in advance of 
the victory he had obtained there ; others maintain that it was raised to that Victory 
who, being wingless, should never more depart from Athens. 

But the Parthenon itself is the great marvel of the Acropolis ; it stands, one 

[140] 




"'"l'll'l!!!S'!i"i!illlili 



side torn ont by the oft anathematized bomb of the Genoese Morisini, and outlines 
against the sky its silhouette dismantled by Lord Elgin. Says Sir AVilliam Gell: "It 
is, without exception, the most magnificent ruin in the world, both for execution and 
design. Though an entire museum has been transported to England from the spoils 
of this temple, it still remains without a rival." The building stood on the highest 
platform of the Acropolis, which was so far elevated above its western entrance 
that the pavement of the Parthenon was upon the same level as the capitals of the 
columns of the Propylaea. It was commenced about the year 448 B. c, and, by com- 
parison of historic dates and events, sixteen years is the utmost extent of time that 
can possibly have been employed in the construction of the entire edifice, with its 
range of eleven hundred feet of sculpture, containing upwards of six hiindred figures, 
some of which were of colossal size, enriched by painting and probably by golden 
ornaments. The building itself was one hundred and one feet in front, two hundred 
and twenty-seven in length, sixty-five in height, built from the most durable white 
marble, and with the exquisite finish of a cameo. No cement was used in the 
construction, but the masonry is fitted with the utmost accuracy, and held together 
by iron clamps run with lead, and the cylindric blocks which form the columns 
have their upper and lower surfaces adjusted and secured by wooden pins and plugs. 

The Parthenon was erected in those brilliant years of peace which followed the 
Persian wars, and was designed as the national sanctuary of Attica. It took the place 
of an earlier structure which had been built by the tyrant Pisistratus, not i-eally as 
a temple, but as a storehouse for the treasures of the goddess of the city. The 
former edifice had been called the Hecatompedon, from its breadth of one hundred 
feet : the new structure received its name from the goddess Athena Parthenos, the 
"Virgin Athena," the invincible goddess of war. The Parthenon was recognized as 
a temple, and contained the statue of the goddess, a colossal figure forty feet in 
height, — the figure of ivory, and the robes and ornaments of solid gold ; the build- 
ing was also employed as the public treasure-house, and, thus blending the fulfilment 
of political and religious ends, served to represent the piety and the artistic culture, 
the wealth and the festal splendor, — in a word, all the glories wliich Athens had 
achieved by her valor and wisdom. 

On the south-eastern slope of the Acropolis stand the iniined walls and arches 
of a building (see page 140) known as the Theatre of Herod Atticus, believed to 
have been erected by that generous patron of the arts, in memory of his wife Regilla. 
This theatre, which is said by Pausanias to have excelled all similar structures in 
Greece, was hollowed for the most part out of the rock ; the seats were part of the 
solid mass, but were cased with marble, as were the walls and ornamental parts of the 
proscenium. Its roof, shaped like a tent, was held to be a copy of the tent pitched 

[142] 



by Xerxes on the soil of Greece, and the beams snpporting it were made from the 
masts of Persian vessels. 

Still further south-east from the Parthenon stand sixteen gigantic columns of 
Corinthian architecture (see page 143), each six and a half feet in diameter, and 
moi-e than sixty feet high. This group of columns, of Pentelic marble, is all that 
remains of the temple of Jupiter Olympus, and no sketch of the chief antiquities 
of Athens would be complete without mention of these ruins, representing as they do 
another age and nation from that to which belong the splendors of the Acropolis. 
The oi-iginal Olympieum was one of the most ancient of the Athenian temples, a legend 
referring its origin to Deucalion. In 530 b. c. a new and splendid building was pro- 
jected by Pisistratus; l)ut not luitil the time of Antiochus Epiphanes was the work 
really commenced, and at the expense of the Syrian king. A century later than 
this, Sylla carried off the columns of the unfinished building to ornament the temple 
of the Capitoline Jove at Rome. " In the time of Augustus, a sort of joint-stock 
company of kings, states, and wealthy individuals," says Stuart, "undertook the com- 
pletion of the building ; but the spell was not yet broken, and the Avork remained 
unfinished till the munificence of Adrian, under happier auspices, finished and dedicated 
the temple, and set up in it the statue of the god, nearly seven centuries after its 
foundation by Pisistratus." 

Not a tenth part of the original structure now remains, and what particulars we 
have are singularly scanty in respect to an edifice of such magnitude and dignity 
as a really worthy imitation, in a later and inferior age, of the illustrious achieve- 
ments of the palmy days of Greece. " It is hardly possible to conceive," says Words- 
worth, "where and how the enormous masses have disappeared of which this temple 
was built. Its remains are now reduced to a few columns, standing together at the 
south-east angle of the great platform which was once planted, as it were, by the 
long files of its pillars. To compare great things with small, they there look like 
the few remaining chess-men, which are drawn into the corner of a nearly vacant 
chess-board, at the conclusion of a game." 

And now, beneath these columns, caring nothing for their date or their builders, 
the people of Athens gather to hold carnival year by year. Long troops of dancers 
wind in and out, to the sound of lyre and drum; and when the dancing is over, 
here in the open air they inaugurate Lent, with a fast-day meal of ohves, caviare, 

and parched corn. 

[144] 



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